Megan saw video shots of the ruined church that morning, after her father turned on the TV. Her first thought was Oh no! Poor Maggie! First the accident, and now this!
The wedding invitation had been waiting when Megan returned from Nashville. Maggie and Travis were set to be married five days from now in the church—the only church in town, the church that was now unusable. The entire building had been cordoned off, Christmas decorations and all, with yards of ugly yellow crime-scene tape. TV cameras showed the beautiful old chapel, with its hand-carved pews and pulpit, buried in snow and debris. It wasn’t just Maggie’s wedding that had been spoiled. Branding Iron had lost a treasure, a place for services, weddings, funerals, and community support.
Maggie and Travis could still get married—at home, in the courthouse, or somewhere in Cottonwood Springs. But there was no place that would accommodate the guests they’d invited to the wedding, and no place where Maggie, a vision in her white gown and floating veil, could make that long-dreamed-of walk down the aisle to marry the man she loved.
The thought of it made Megan want to cry. She weighed the idea of calling Maggie, but she had nothing to offer except sympathy, and the last thing her friend would want now was a ringing phone.
She could call Conner . . . but that was out of the question. She and Conner were history. He had played her for a fool, and she had too much pride to beg for his attention, like poor Ronda May.
She’d spent a restless night, thinking about him as she tossed and turned on the couch. She’d replayed their final conversation over and over, remembering every word of what was said. In the end, she had to concede that the breakup had been as much her fault as his. If she’d laughed off the fact that he’d guessed her secret, they would still be a couple. But she hadn’t been that smart. Instead, she’d chosen to be offended and to judge his intentions.
Had her stubborn pride been worth losing him? Would she get another chance, or was it already too late for forgiveness?
There was nothing to do but wait—wait for her mother’s decision on the driving school; wait for a decision on the teaching job; wait three more days for the Cowboy Christmas Ball, where she would perform as Lacy, and where she would most likely come face-to-face with Conner again.
What would she do? What would she say to him?
But enough moping! She gave herself a mental slap. One thing wouldn’t wait, and that was the knee-deep snow blocking the driveway. Her father had already gone out to shovel, and he wasn’t as young as he used to be. He would wear himself out trying to do the job alone. Pulling on her coat, boots, and gloves, Megan went outside to help him.
* * *
By the time Rush arrived, Conner had cleared part of the driveway, including a path to the shed, where the Jeep was parked alongside Travis’s pickup. The lane from the highway was unplowed, but the Hummer’s powerful engine and oversized tires had no trouble pushing through the deep snow.
“Hell, let’s get you a snowplow blade on the front of that machine,” Conner joked as Rush climbed out of the big vehicle. “It can push more snow in five minutes than I can shovel in half an hour. We could even hire you out.”
“Did you hear about the church?” Rush grabbed a spare snow shovel out of the shed.
“I did. Travis called me. Lord, I wouldn’t want to be him right now. Maggie must be a nervous wreck.”
“He called me, too,” Rush said. “I just dro
pped Clara at your neighbors’ place so Tracy could go and give Maggie some emotional support. Maggie’s a tough woman, but sometimes life isn’t fair. She had her heart set on taking a walk down that aisle. Now . . .” He shrugged. “They can still get married, but it won’t be the same.”
“What are they going to do?” Conner asked. “The invitations are out. Everything was in place—until the storm moved in.”
“I’m guessing Maggie and Travis are still in shock.” Rush scooped a shovelful of snow and flung it to one side of the driveway. “And it’s not just them. I think most of the town was looking forward to seeing those two get married.”
“I know.” Conner matched him scoop for scoop. The snow was wet and heavy—heavy enough to have broken an aging church roof with its weight. “As the retiring mayor, Maggie wanted a big celebration for the whole town. Now there’s no place to have it. What can they do besides postpone the wedding, or maybe have a simple ceremony somewhere and throw a party for the town this summer?”
Rush paused to catch his breath, leaning on the shovel for support. “Tracy and I were asking each other the same questions over breakfast this morning. We wanted to help them, but we couldn’t think of how. That was when Clara came up with a great idea.”
“You say Clara came up with it?”
“Hey, my little girl’s a sharp kid, as you should know.”
“Yes, I do.” Conner chuckled. “Last year, when she stayed with us, she outsmarted me at every turn. So, what did she have in mind?”
“I’ll tell you while we finish shoveling. Let me know what you think.”
Conner listened while Rush talked. He had to admit that Clara’s idea wasn’t bad. “It’s not perfect,” he said as they finished clearing the driveway and carried the shovels to the porch. “But it’s better than anything else we’ve come up with.”
“So you think it might work?” Rush said.
“Maggie would have to agree to it. If we can convince her, the rest should be easy enough.”
“So, are you willing to go to Maggie’s place now and lay out our plan? If she says yes, we won’t have a lot of time.”
“And if she doesn’t?”