"You mean, she's still not here?" AJ barked at Dana from the door of the Hearts and Flowers Suite. It was ten past four and she came to inquire whether to start the music.

"Do you think something is wrong?"

AJ stroked his chin. "Shouldn't be." He picked up the telephone and dialed one number, then another. "No answer at the house and her cellular phone is apparently turned off. She must be on the way. Otherwise, someone would have let us know." He shook his head. "I knew Sarah had developed tardiness into a fine art, but I hardly expected her to be late for her own wedding." The look he gave Dana was one of pure exasperation.

"I'm positive she'll be here any second," Dana said in a tone she employed to pacify her clients in their anxious moments. She hoped it wouldn't fail her now and that it would serve to relax the bridegroom until his fiancée showed up. "In the meantime, shall I have the violinists play?"

"At the moment, the violinists are the least of my concerns, Ms. Evans. That's your decision, so handle it."

Don't take your hostility out on me, Dana wanted to scream. She choked back the impulse. "I'll stall the musicians for a while," she replied coolly.

As Dana descended the stairs to the parlor, Stephanie rushed over to her. "What's going on?"

Dana sighed loudly. "I haven't a clue. I tried to get some guidance from AJ on what to do, and instead had my head bitten off. What's the scene outside?"

"The natives are getting restless. Reverend Hulse alternates between meditating in the gazebo and soothing two sets of skittish parents. Everyone else is having a field day speculating about the delay."

"Do they all know what the problem is? That Sarah's not here."

"Yup. I even heard one of the ushers taking bets on her estimated time of arrival."

Dana glanced nervously towards the front door. "Could there have been an accident?"

"We'd have gotten a word of an accident," Stephanie said in the same soft voice Dana had used with AJ.

"I hope you're right. She's is going to arrive, isn't she?"

"Of course she is. No woman would leave AJ McLean in the lurch. And no sane woman would keep him waiting without a good reason. Sarah should have donned her own wedding gown and been walking down the aisle by now."

"We're past aisle walking," Dana said. "The happy bride and groom should already be cutting the cake and toasting the future. The ceremony was to begin a half-hour ago."

"So what do we do?"

"Perhaps we–" Dana paused at the sound of a car door slamming. She rushed to the windows and pulled back the laced curtains. "It's the limo, Stephanie," she said, "go tell the musicians to start playing. I'll hurry Sarah into the bride's room and let the groom know she's here. With luck, this wedding will be underway in the next ten minutes."

AJ, too, heard the car door slam and glanced out the window to see Sarah step casually from the car. She was dressed in an oversize shirt and leggings, her wedding dress draped over her arm. The chauffeur lifted her overnight bag from the car's trunk and followed Sarah up the walk, Sarah's relaxed strolled indicating she hadn't a care in the world.

AJ felt like dashing outside and throttling the woman. Didn't Sarah comprehend that today was special and certainly not the occasion to manufacture an attention-getting "entrance"? She was the bride, for Pete's sake, destined to be the center of attention anyway.

Almost from the moment of the proposal, AJ had asked himself whether he'd done the right thing. He dismissed those doubts as "cold feet" of bachelorhood. He honestly wanted to settle down, and to have a wife and a family. Now he wondered if that desire had destroyed his common sense. Was he about to make the biggest mistake of his life? AJ didn't want a sham of a marriage. He wanted the "till death do us part" kind of union.

Sarah had barely reached the front porch when he bounded down to meet her. "Are you alright?"

"Of course," she answered, acting nonplussed at his question. "I'm just running a little behind, that's all – what with the hairdresser and make-up artist and manicurist." She waved perfect pink nails in his direction.

"Well, at least you're ok." The muscles in AJ's jaw clenched and unclenched. "Now we need to talk. Upstairs!" He grabbed Sarah's arm and hustled her inside.

Dana stared uncomprehendingly, then regained her composure. She raced after them, only to be stopped in her tracks by the slamming of the door to the suite. Darn! Nothing had gone smoothly since the first second she set eyes on these two. And now this – all those guests cooling their heels outside and the principal players in conference. What was happening in there anyways? She stood in the hall frantically tapping her foot and quelling the urge to put an eye to the old-fashioned keyhole.

Interminable minutes passed, the door opened. Sarah came out, stopping in front of Dana. "I never did want to get married here anyway," she huffed. "I told AJ this house had bad vibes, but he wouldn't listen. Well, other people will soon see that I knew what I was talking about. Here," she said, shoving the plastic encased wedding gown in Dana's arms. "Put this in your next garage sale." Without another word, Sarah sailed down the stairs and out the front door.

Dana didn't know whether to pursue her or to go to AJ. She was seized by the dreaded realization that Sarah had made good on her threat and pulled the plug on the wedding. Or had AJ? That seemed more likely at the moment. He'd been mad enough to chew nails. But surely Sarah would have reacted differently if AJ had been the one responsible. In the brief glimpse she'd gotten, Dana detected no tears, more a haughty contempt.

Whatever had occurred between the two of them, she needed to know. A garden full of people waited expectantly for a wedding to take place. With tentative steps, Dana entered AJ's suite.

"Ah, Ms. Evans, come in." AJ's mussed hair showed the effects of repeated fingers rakings and his tux tie was undone.

"My. . .fiancée. . .and I have had a change of heart." He opened his palm to display the gaudy engagement ring, then gave her a strained smile. "Unless you've got a substitute bride handy, I suppose this means the wedding's off."

Dana stared at him in astonishment. Sure AJ and Sarah were an impossible couple, but even yesterday they had appeared committed – or resigned at least – to getting married. So who or what was to blame for this startling about-face?

"Ms. Evans, are you listening? I just said the wedding's off. I'll need your support to contend with the mob out there, a mob which will be demanding explanations. As far as everyone's concerned, I'm incommunicado. Bring D up here so I can ask him to make my excuses."

She nodded and ran to locate Howie Dorough, AJ's best man and bandmate. Now wasn't the time for an in-depth analysis. Action was required. Emergency action.

As soon as she dispatched Howie to AJ, Dana hurried to the kitchen and called to Stephanie. Quickly summarizing matters, she sent Stephanie to summon the rest of the staff. Howie had already enlisted aid from the minister and ushers, before parking himself at the foot of the stairs to prevent anyone attempting to see AJ.

A short while later most of the gathering had dispersed. Reverend Hulse assisted by comforting the families and diplomatically answering questions from the curious. But now even the good reverend's patience was being tested.

Stewart and Betsy Martin, Sarah's parents, were in the dining room, Stewart glowering menacingly in the directions of the McLeans and shaking a fist at AJ's father.

"What has your boy gone and done to my baby? I tell you I won't let him get away treating her the way he did Lucy Walsh. Do you hear me, McLean? I won't stand for my girl being left at the altar." Stewart Martin slammed a fist against the dining table, accidentally connecting with a layer of the flower-bedecked wedding cake. Gooey icing covered his hand and a white sugar rose stuck precariously to a finger, but he seemed oblivious to it as he continued ranting.

"Need I remind you who held this shindig up?" Bob McLean roared back. "If anyone was left at the altar, it sure as heck wasn't Sarah. My son was here as promised, ready and waiting for the 'I do's.'" As the two men belligerently stepped closer to one another, Reverend Hulse inserted himself between them, talking conciliation and calling for cooler heads. Within moments he was successfully escorting the Martins to their car.

Howie had managed to keep visitors away from AJ, including a relentless society reporter who'd conceded to do interviews out on the front lawn. But Howie gave up his barrier when AJ's mother started upstairs. Denise McLean wasn't about to be deterred from talking to her son. She didn't stay long before reappearing to confer with her ex-husband on the landing. Both parents, somber faced, came downstairs rather than seeking any more conversation with their son. After Bob and Denise left, Reverend Hulse and Howie, Brian, Nick and Kevin soon followed, only the staff remaining to attend to the dismantling of the decorations and removal of the chairs and accessories from the garden.

Dana was in the dining room, shaking her head and wondering where to stash the wrecked wedding cake when Stephanie joined her.

"I just looked out front. The reporter's got a photographer with her."

"She sure didn't waste any time." Dana grimaced. "Negative publicity's all we need right now. The groom is upstairs in who-knows-what kind of mood. If he comes down and spots that camera, he'll probably kick them both off the premises.

"Not that he can make the situation much worse for us. Imagine what kind of coverage this fiasco's going to receive. I can see the headlines already. 'McLean Wedding Frizzles At Eleventh Hour.' And to think I believe a high-profile ceremony was just what my business needed. What a laugh! By the time the newspapers and television stations gets finish with us, no one would want to have anything to do with Torrence Place or 'Arrangements by Dana.'" Dana's face fell as the realization took hold. "Go ahead and hang a shroud over the front. We're dead. We'll be labeled a jinx. I'll end up filing bankruptcy–"

Stephanie gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "Settle down. No one's going to fault you for this. Anyway, even if we do weather an occasional joke and a couple of cancellations, there are enough weddings already lined up to compensate."

"If they don't all cancel."

Dana's comment was dismissed with a wave of Stephanie's hand. "They won't– it's too time consuming for them to start all over. Now stop worrying and tell me what to do about that reporter. Do we make a statement?"

Dana shook her head. "That's really not our job. We should probably refer her to the Martins or AJ's parents."

"Do they know what went wrong?"

"You'll have to ask someone else that question. I'm not sure who knows what."

"Was it because Sarah was late? Or because of the Lucy Walsh, whoever she is?"

"I haven't the foggiest idea. Maybe AJ and Sarah simply got a case of stage fright. They might change their minds back tomorrow." Why, Dana wondered, did that idea repel her so, when it should have had the opposite effect? A resurrected Martin-McLean marriage would be aggravation galore, but much better for the image of "Arrangements by Dana."

"What else do I need to do?" Stephanie asked.

"Help me put this cake away and that's it."

The two of them carried the cake into the pantry then Stephanie untied her apron and hung it on a peg. "Jay's off until Sunday and we're going to run down to Galveston. Maybe you'd feel better to get away. Want to come along?"

"You are a dear, Steph, but I have no interest in being the third wheel." The heavy demands of Jay Anders' medical residency and Stephanie's two jobs often had them bemoaning their limited hours together. "You've done enough." Dana gave her a hug. "Thanks for everything. Now go off to frolic with Jay while I figure out some way to deal with the reporter."

Dana breathed easier as the reporter and cameraman drove away. She glanced at the grandfather clock in the foyer. In less then an hour she'd managed to remove all traces of the event – the people departed, the kitchen cleaned, the decorations removed, the gourmet buffet and wedding cake out of sight, and the dining room vacuumed. Dana knew that AJ didn't need any mementos of the wedding that almost was.

She had just turned to go and tell him that the coast was clear when he appeared at the top of the stairs and started down. He looked around. "Very efficient, Ms. Evans. I even spotted you getting rid of the news hound. You're a resourceful woman."

All well and good, but all Dana wanted was to be resourceful enough to get him out of her hair, then treat herself to a hot bath and a couple of aspirin and try to recover from this ill-fated afternoon.

She wished she could tell from his expression exactly how AJ was reacting. Surely he was unhappy. How could he not be? Yet from all outward appearances, calling off his wedding seemed no more then a minor inconvenience. In fact, AJ almost looked as through he couldn't care less.

This made no sense to Dana. No one would go through so much time and effort – to say nothing of the expense – if he didn't want to get married. And, even if AJ wasn't all that much in love, it had to be a personal embarrassment to back down at the crucial moment. Obviously he was putting on a show of male bravado.

Fine with her, Dana decided. If that was his way of handling the problem, his way of preserving his dignity, she wouldn't undermine the endeavor. She'd just negotiate the few remaining details and he could be on his way. As AJ came closer, she said to him, "The food, Mr. McLean, if you have no objection, we could—"

"Dump it."

"I had a homeless shelter in mind—"

"Okay, if you think they want it, but I suspect they'd prefer something more substantial like meat and potatoes. Speaking of meat and potatoes, I'm staved. How about rustling up a meal?"

"Here?"

"Is that so strange? You were prepared to serve a hundred people an hour ago. Call whomever you want about the party food, but in the meantime, let's raid the refrigerator." He clasped her shoulders and turned her toward the kitchen.

Dana opened the refrigerator door and stared at the containers inside. "Would you either have Swedish meatballs or some of the crab canapés?"

"I was hoping for real food. A sandwich, for instance." He gripped the top of the refrigerator door with one hand and leaned over Dana to peer at the array of jars and boxes.

"Roast beef okay?" she asked, wishing he would give her some breathing room.

"Fine." AJ dropped his hand, but he didn't back away. Dana pulled out sandwich fixings and a delicatessen package of beef, then moved around AJ to the butcher-block countertop.

"Don't tell me you're going to make me eat alone? And at that big formal dining table? The one Stew Martin pounded, probably wishing it was my jaw."

"So you heard about that?"

"My mother told me." He took a glass from the cabinet and filled it with ice and tea. "Would you like a drink?"

"Sure." Dana couldn't help wondering what else his mother had told him about the altercation with Sarah's parents and decided she had nothing to lose by asking. "Who's Lucy Walsh?"

AJ sighed.

"Please don't tell me that it's none of my business. In view of the fact there was almost a fistfight in my dining room, I think I have a right to know."

He sighed again. "All right," he said resignedly. "I guess it's no big secret. Lucy's probably one of the reasons I didn't call this farce off weeks ago."

Farce. Interesting comment, Dana thought and wondered if his cynical description was hurt feelings in disguise. She took a second placemat and completed setting the table, in the kitchen where it'd be more conducive to conversation. "So?" she prodded, when AJ didn't offer more information.

"A few years ago I dated Lucy for about three months. Then without warning, she announced to the world we were engaged. It wasn't true. I'd never mentioned marriage, much less proposed. But she'd concluded that our dating exclusively meant a commitment. Maybe it did, but not the kind she was thinking about. Things got pretty sticky and there was no gracious way out. She accused me of making her a laughingstock, dropped out of school and bummed around Europe for a year. Most people believed I'd broken a pledge and poor Lucy's heart." AJ's mouth curved downward in a trouble grimace.

"So what does she have to do with Sarah?" Dana finished making their sandwiches and carried their plates to the table.

Politely, AJ seated her and took his own place, unfolding a linen napkin and spreading it across his lap. "Perhaps this was an instance where I was too concerned with appearances and not enough about reality. I had already been painted as the bad guy once. What would I have been labeled if I'd seemingly ducked out a second time?"

"You may find out the answer to that question."

The frown intensified. "So be it. I'm tired of dwelling on it." He took a bite of his sandwich. "This is great. I'm even hungrier then I realized. Amazing what not getting married can do for the appetite," he said, speaking like a man reprieved rather than a disappointed one.

For a while they ate in silence, then AJ glanced over her way. "Considering this is a workroom, your kitchen is very cozy. As a matter of fact, I like the whole house."

"Thanks," Dana said with a flash of pride, pleased by the compliment and amazed at the facility with which AJ could put his unhappiness aside and exchange pleasantries over a meal.

He dabbed his mouth with his napkin. "How did you come to own Torrence Place?"

"In a way it fell into my lap. This was my grandparents' home, part of the estate inherited by my mother. My parents maintained ownership for a while and rented it out. But after moving to Dallas, they found being absentee landlords a headache. When they decided to put the property on the market, I got this brainstorm to buy it. Typical parents, they refused to sell. . .insisted on giving the house to me. The only stipulation was that I used my purchase money to restore Torrence Place to its old glory."

"Sounds like a good deal. Heights properties are in demand – it's not often anything along the boulevard is available. You got quite a bargain."

"Originally, I thought so too. But the project then they or I ever dreamed – replacing the roof, the plumbing, the wiring. . .and that was only the beginning."

He nodded knowingly. "You're saying you got in over your head."

"Well, at least up to my eyeballs." She almost said more, but stopped herself. So it had taken her savings plus some hefty loans to make Torrence Place the showpiece it was becoming? So she agonized over finances on a daily basis? That was her problem. She didn't tend to share the particulars of her dismal financial condition with AJ.

"Another sandwich?" she asked, changing the subject. When he declined, she picked up her plate and moved toward the sink.

AJ gave what appeared to be a supportive smile as she came back for his plate. "Getting started in anything is expensive, especially with the kind of quality workmanship you put into the house. You must have had to borrow heavily."

The man refuses to be deterred, Dana thought, irritated now by his nosy insightfulness, as well as for overstaying his welcome. She was more then ready for him to leave. Maybe if she gave him a taste of his own medicine, probed into his own sensitive matters, AJ would become uncomfortable and decide to go. Since the first day he had walked into Torrence Place with Sarah, Dana had been curious about him. Now she had a rationalization for meddling. "Why were you marrying Sarah?"

Only a blink of his brown eyes gave any inclination she'd disconcerted him. His voice was steady when he answered, "I'm not sure that any of your concern."

"Indulge me, then. After all, I have been caught up in this. . .I believe you used the word, farce." It was past the point if diplomacy. "So why?"

"It's rather complicated."

"Your biological clock was ticking down?" Dana asked sarcastically.

"Oh, I think biology's allotted me several more years. Could be that I was tired of the badgering, friends and family vigorously hinting. Everyone I know subscribes to Jane Austen's premise that a single man in good fortune must be in want of a wife. They were driving me crazy trying to fix me up."

"So you thought it easier to get married then to endure the pressure?" Dana refreshed AJ's drink, then rejoined him at the table. "Surely you were capable of handling a bunch of frustrated Cupids," she said. "There has got to be more to it then that."

"A lot of reasons contributed to my decision. True, there was the pressure. I decided that the time had come to make a commitment."

"So you picked Sarah?" Even through none of your reasons had anything to do with falling in love.

"It seemed a good choice at the time." It had, AJ reminded himself silently, tired of trying to explain – to justify – his actions to this snip of a female. He and Sarah ran in the same social whirl, had mutual friends, liked sports and the arts, whether she was marrying him for himself or for his money and fame. . .

Importantly he'd been attracted to her – for a while. But when or how the relationship starting unraveling, he wasn't certain. Where did I go wrong? "I was convinced I weighed every angle." His thoughts slipped out.

"Did it every occur to you that you might have approach marriage in a convoluted way?" Dana took advantage of the opening to continue cross-examining AJ. "'Weighing angles' instead of emotions?"

"It does now," he said. "Is that what you want to hear?"

"All I care about is hearing the truth – the whole truth."

Suddenly AJ raised his eyebrows up and down. "Even if the whole truth might be that I fell for someone else. You, for instance."

Dana self-consciously gulped the reminder of her drink. "Spare me," she said.

"You mean you're dismissing out of hand that I've come to care about you. Rather heartless I should say."

"Enough of this silliness." Dana should have known he'd seize the conversation and turn it disconcertingly his way. "Let's talk about something else."

"Sure," he said, unperturbed. Resting his elbows on the table, he studied her. "Let's see. . . as I remember we were discussing Torrence Place. A lot of talent went into restoring those old oak moldings. You've done a head's up job with furnishings, too. The house is really lovely."

"Thank you," Dana said warily. Not once in his previous visits had AJ mentioned his surroundings, yet tonight he practically turned into an interior designer. She didn't know what to make of his conversational gambit.

"I must admit I'm happy with the way it's turning out," she volunteered cautiously. "Still, the upstairs is not nearly as finished – only the two suites. I've closed off the rest for now."

"Well, what you have completed is perfect. I normally prefer more contemporary furniture, but the antiques you acquired are just right." He leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head. "Yes, as long as I have to hole up somewhere for a week or so, this is a good place as I could hope to find."

"What?" Dana grasped, rising to her feet. Surely she hadn't heard him correctly. "What do you mean?" she managed more calmly, even through her voice squeaked tellingly.

"Exactly what I said. The smartest thing for me to do is to hide out here. One reporter's already got the story on today's debacle. A dozen'll soon follow. I'm not inclined to talk to any news types just yet and this probably the last place they'll look."

Chapter 5
Chapter 3
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