Past Forward- A Serial Novel: Volume 3 Read online

  “Oh! Right. Thanks.”

  “Go on in. He’s just clearing his desk for an after lunch meeting.”

  Willow opened the door knocking gently. “Does my favorite financial guru have time for me?”

  “Willow!”

  The absolute delight followed by pain on Bill’s face made her pause. Bill moved around the desk and wrapped his arms around her in a bear hug. “It’s so good to see you. Congratulations. Is it Chad?”

  She nodded hesitantly. “We decided it didn’t look good for him to spend so much time at my house, especially since he’s there so late so often.”

  Bill’s eyes widened and then narrowed in concern. “But you are in love with him, though, aren’t you?”

  “I love him, yes.”

  “That isn’t what I asked, Willow,” he said, a familiar tenderness entering his voice.

  “I know, but it is the only answer I can give.”

  Bill led her to a small couch in one corner of the office and urged her to sit. “Water?”

  “Thanks.”

  He brought her a glass and sank into the couch next to her taking her hand in his. “Don’t do this, Willow. Don’t marry someone until you’re in love. I can’t stand it.”

  “I can.”

  Her words hung between them. Bill’s pained expression nearly made her apologize, but she knew he needed to understand and accept. Until that moment, she truly hadn’t understood the depth of his affection for her.

  “I don’t understand. If you were in love—if you couldn’t wait to be his wife—”

  “Oh, but I can’t. I’m marrying my best friend, and honestly, if it wasn’t for all this wedding stuff, I’d be married already.”

  He started to protest again and then stopped. Their eyes met and held. Smoothing her hand with his thumb, he stared at his feet as he murmured, “Will you be happy?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Then I’m happy for both of you. I hope you have a wonderful life—but be careful.”

  “Why?”

  A teasing glint twinkled in Bill’s dark eyes. “The last guy who had ‘A Wonderful Life’ ended up with four children.”

  “Huh?”

  “Ask Chad. He’ll get a kick out of sharing that with you.”

  She grinned. “Will you come?”

  “Is that why you’re here? A personal invitation to the most unique wedding of the century?”

  “What makes you say—” she began.

  “It’s a Finley wedding. It has to be unique.”

  Her smile spread wider. “Well, it’s not why I came, but it is important to me.”

  “I’ll come. I may not stay for the reception; it’s going to be hard for me.”

  She squeezed his hand gently. “Then come late. We’re having the party first.”

  “You would. So if you’re not here to request my services as the official bride down the aisle walker, then what?”

  She swallowed. Willow hadn’t realized how much her errand was going to hurt him and this would just make it worse. “I need to know how to put Chad on my accounts and things. I need to get life insurance on me for him. I need to do all the things Mother did, but now it’s for Chad.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” Bill assured. “You’re wise to take care of it now.” She stood, ready to leave, but Bill stopped her. “I have your taxes done. Do you want to sign here, or should I bring them out next month as usual?”

  “Let me sign. Mother just had a thing about not letting the government have money any sooner than necessary. Me, I just want it over with.”

  As the door closed behind her, Bill’s head drooped. Dejectedly he returned to his desk and dropped his head in his hands. Lethargic—he felt lethargic.

  How could she marry him if she wasn’t in love? Was he in love with her? He’d take good care of her—of that, Bill had no doubt.

  Why was he so unable to deny his own fears and desires? It could have been him, even if Mari thought him too old for her. What was a ten year age difference when considering someone like Willow? If he could only get over her. If he could only learn to be comfortable in the country. It was too later now, of course. If only…

  Chapter Eighty-Seven

  “So, what are your colors?”

  Willow smiled as she answered, “Yellow and white. I will have a bit of lilac but only in actual flowers.”

  “So your flowers are lilacs and your colors are white and yellow?” It was readily apparent that the woman, Lisa, didn’t appreciate the aesthetics of Willow’s choice.

  “My flowers are daisies accented with lilacs. I’m putting the white and yellow as primary everything and then the lilacs will be the only other time the lilac is there.”

  “Oh!” A complete change came over the woman’s face. “You said outdoors right? That sounds lovely. Have you considered a chiffon cake with lemon filling?”

  “Perfect.”

  Marianne shook her head slightly. The consultant frowned. “Is there something wrong with that?”

  “Not at all. It’s just her way. Only Willow could walk into a bakery, spend five minutes talking, and have a cake chosen.”

  “That was easy!” Willow beamed.

  “Oh we’re not done yet,” Lisa. “I just got started. “What do you want it to look like? Tiers? Round? Square?”

  Willow was instantly overwhelmed. “I— well—”

  Marianne interrupted. “May we see your portfolios? Willow hasn’t done much looking yet.”

  After ten pages, Willow stopped. “This. I like this.” She pointed to a double-stacked cake decorated like a tiered present with a large bow on top and accented with fresh roses. “I can put my daisies and a few lilac sprigs where the roses are and it’ll look perfect.”

  “It won’t feed the crowd you’re expecting though,” Lisa mused aloud. “You’d need a couple of sheet cakes or—”

  “Petit fours.”

  “That’s where you are—oh!” Marianne said excitedly. “I get it! That’s a great idea.”

  Nodding excitedly, Lisa picked up the idea. “Excellent! Will you want a groom’s cake?”

  “Cheesecake.” Willow agreed without thinking about it. She wasn’t sure exactly what a groom’s cake was, but if she had her way, Chad would have cheesecake for it.

  “Looks like you’re all set. We’ll have it there on the sixteenth of May, by nine o’clock.”

  The women left the bakery excited. One more piece of the wedding puzzle was fitted into place. They stood gazing up and down the street trying to decide where to go next. “What are you going to do for guest favors?”

  “What are those again?” At Marianne’s astounded expression, Willow added, “I mean I know what they are are, but what kinds of things—”

  “Well,” Marianne began leading Willow down the street to a local coffee shop. “It’s customary to have some kind of small token gift for your guests. People do boxes of candies or bud vases or…”

  They ordered coffee talking about options. Marianne’s suggestion of something that represented her or Chad or even as them as a couple made Willow brighten. “I’ve never done it before but maybe lemon jelly or marmalade wrapped in a box that looks like my cake? I could put the farm name—”

  “Your farm has a name?”

  Blushing, Willow shrugged. “Well, the people around Fairbury call it ‘the Finley place’ or ‘Finley Farm’ but Chad called it ‘Walden Farm’ because Mother loved that line from Thoreau so much.”

  “Walden Farms Lemon Marmalade. That sounds exclusive.”

  “Would we use pints—”

  “Oh no! Think about it. If a family shows up with four people—or Aggie and Luke!” She giggled. “That’d be a lot of marmalade. It’s just a token gift. It’s not a big deal, and really, it’s more than a lot of people do.”

  “Where do we buy boxes?”

  The women smiled at each other. “Let’s go!”

  “Um—will I be killed if I ask what you’re doing and what is for d
inner?”

  The women smiled up at Christopher from a dining table surrounded with boxes that they wrapped in a perfect assembly line. Marianne cut each piece of plain white wrapping paper carefully according to size templates they’d created. Then, she cut exact lengths of organdy ribbons. Cheri wrapped each box swiftly and deftly securing the paper with both glue and tape. Willow, took each wrapped box, added the sheer ribbons, and tied perfect little bows to the lids.

  “Um, we ordered pizza—” The doorbell rang interrupting them. “—and I guess it’s here.”

  Christopher left the bowery and went to pay for the meal, shaking his head. This was going to be twice as bad when Cheri and Chuck— The thought made him pause. Cheri and Chuck. Why had he automatically thought—

  He nearly fell over several boxes of lemons, sugar, and lemon juice in the kitchen as he went to fill a plate. “Is this what Stella was talking about? She asked what was so bad that I needed so much lemonade, and I was lost.”

  “Tell her marmalade, dear—” Marianne answered absently.

  “Is anyone else going to eat?”

  “Hmm?” the three wrappers asked absently in unison.

  “Never mind.” Christopher disappeared into the den and grabbed the phone. As he waited for Chad to answer, he took a bite of pizza. “Chad? Don’t come home. They’ll box you and tie you up with yellow ribbon or turn you into lemon marmalade. I’m not sure which is worse, but it’s not safe here. Call soon. Willow isn’t getting much rest.”

  While Christopher hung up the phone and munched on his pizza, the “girls” squealed in excited glee as they reached the last of the cases of boxes. “Twenty-five to go!” Cheri exulted. “Hey, the pizza is here!”

  “So, we make marmalade tomorrow?” Marianne asked.

  Willow shrugged. “I have to figure out how to make it first.”

  Cheri grabbed her laptop from a chair in the living room and brought it to the table. Opening it with one hand and holding her pizza in the other, she typed one handed, calling up a list of marmalade recipes. “I like this one. Three ingredients. We can cut up lemons and watch a movie tonight and you guys can get to work on them in the morning.”

  “You’d have to take back the lemon juice and buy more lemons,” Marianne hedged. She liked the simplicity but…

  “Can Christopher order extra lemons? We could cook up all the ones we can get tomorrow and then make more in a couple of days.”

  “Oh, yeah!” Cheri said excitedly. “My Thursday class was canceled! You guys can make this tomorrow, and I can come home Wednesday night, cut more, and voila!”

  “Chad’s coming Wednesday. Maybe I can write by then and we can finish up the invitations while he’s here.”

  “You leave those invitations out for me, and I’ll do the writing. You’re going home with a healed hand, young lady,” Marianne threatened with a waggle of her finger.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Before anyone said anything else, Willow’s cell phone rang. The way her face lit up at the sight of the screen and the little hop she gave as she bounced out of the room told the onlookers more than her delighted, “Chad!”

  Chad’s heart did the Paso Doble as he heard the genuine warmth and affection in her voice. His father was right. She would love him someday—truly love him. “You having fun? Staying busy? Resting? Say you’ve been resting.”

  “I ordered a cake today…”

  For Willow, ordering a cake was almost lounging around doing nothing. He could handle that. “Will I like it?”

  “Chiffon cake with lemon filling and a cheesecake for a ‘groom’s’ cake. Whatever that is.”

  “It’s a southern thing that’s working its way up here. I learned about them at my cousin Andrew’s wedding. Mom was so excited. I should have remembered that she’d want one. So did that take all day?”

  Laughing, Willow described their wrapping frenzy and tomorrow’s marmalade job. “I can tell I’m going to be stuck stirring or something; your mom is hovering over me like a hen with chicks.”

  “She loves you.”

  “I’m starting to realize that. It feels nice.”

  Chad stretched his legs out onto her couch and grinned as he flirted. “What can I say, you’re easy to love.”

  “Speaking of which,” she began hesitantly. “I went to Bill’s today.”

  “What does that have to do with the more interesting topic at hand?” Chad complained as he pictured her in Bill’s office, holding Bill’s hand, hugging him goodbye… It wasn’t a good place to go in his mind.

  “I hurt him.”

  “Aww, Willow.” The pain in her voice cut him. Bill had made himself clear, but Willow had never truly seen it. She still saw him as one of her first playmates and missed the depth of his feelings for her—until now anyway. “Are you ok?”

  “I am, but I don’t think he is. I didn’t understand. I mean, I knew—he said—but—”

  “But you didn’t see. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s like I lost him all over again. I want you here. You feel very far away.”

  Chad glanced at the clock. He could be there by eleven-thirty. He’d planned not to come until morning, but Willow in pain he didn’t think he could stomach. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow is forever. If I could drive, I’d come see you.”

  “I’m back on the clock at eight.”

  Her rare giggle amused him. “I’d drive really fast then!”

  “Willow, your idea of really fast is twenty miles per hour.”

  “I can only walk five on a good day, so yeah, that’s really fast,” she protested.

  “You know what I like,” he teased with a hint of something more meaningful behind his words.

  “What?”

  “I like that you want to see me.”

  They talked until he had to go back to work. With a promise from her not to go to sleep until he called, he hung up, grinning. He wouldn’t call until he stepped in the door. She’d love that.

  Willow hurried back into the dining room but found the Tesdall women putting away the glue, tape, wrapping paper, and the rest of the accoutrements of their frenzy. “So, are you going to turn this paper into something amazing?” Cheri asked interestedly.

  “Actually, I was going to see if you ladies needed it before I took it home. I can certainly use it, but if you have a use for it…”

  “Take it. Your wedding present doesn’t have to be wrapped,” Marianne teased.

  “Oh! A wedding present! I didn’t think about presents. Whatever would I do with them? I have everything I need.”

  Cheri got excited. “I think you should register for a set of matching dishes to your teapot and cups.”

  “That’s a great idea! And towels. I realized that towels are things you probably wear out faster than the average person.”

  Willow listened thoughtfully as they tossed ideas back and forth. From towels and bedding, to electric mixers and coffee pots for Chad, the suggestions darted from person to person until Willow thought she’d go crazy. “Do we have to do gifts? Isn’t there some way to request people just skip that?”

  “It’s rude. People want to bless you. Let them,” Marianne said with finality.

  “But if stuff isn’t a blessing but a burden—”

  Before Marianne could answer, Cheri piped up excitedly. “If you could have one thing—just one—that you don’t own right now but want very badly, what would it be?”

  It didn’t take Willow a second to think about her answer. “A spinning wheel.”

  “We’ll have a ‘spinning shower!”

  “No we won’t,” Marianne protested. We’re having a personal shower.”

  “Mom! She’ll be mortified.”

  “Good. It’s a rite of passage.” Marianne’s tone made Willow nervous. She winked at Willow and continued, “You’ll have fun. We keep them tasteful.”

  “Do I want to ask?”

  “No,” Cheri said. I’ll tell you later. Like when i
t’s over.”

  The heat clicked on and hot air blasted through the registers. Willow didn’t hear it. Engrossed in a huge Calvin and Hobbes book of cartoons, she didn’t hear the front door open or Chad’s footsteps hurrying upstairs and through the house, looking for her. Giggles erupted occasionally as she lost herself in Calvin’s imaginary world.

  The book crashed to the floor as Chad whispered, “Hey there.” He vaulted the couch sinking next to her.

  “But—I thought—”

  “You sounded lonely.”

  Her eyes thanked him before she curled next to him on the couch. Chad leaned down and picked up the book. “Calvin and Hobbes. My favorite.”

  “He’s an awful little boy, but he’s funny.”

  For an hour, they sat chuckling over the antics and escapades. Chad noticed as time passed that Willow felt heavier and heavier until he knew she was asleep. He shifted until he had both of them resting comfortably and then pulled the couch throw over her. It was a good night.

  “Ok, so we have all of the Sullivans, Tesdalls, our church, your church…” Chad thought carefully. “That leaves the Finleys, but we don’t have that here and then various friends like Bill, Todd Blankenship—”

  “Cheri won’t be happy,” Marianne commented absently.

  “He’s been my best friend since the fourth grade. I’m not leaving him out.”

  “You’ve never mentioned Todd.” Willow glanced up from her glue and seals. “Why haven’t I met him?”

  “He’s on a year-long mission to India. He gets home next month.” The excitement in Chad’s voice couldn’t be missed. “I can’t believe I haven’t mentioned him. Mom, Jay and Hope Brown have been a lot of help to him. Maybe invite them too. He’d probably like an excuse to talk to them without people vying for his attention.”

  The invitation list was finally complete sans the addresses of the Finley clan, and Marianne moved to ceremony treaded lightly, knowing how different Willow wanted things. “Well, the family has gotten together and we’ve gone in on a wedding present. You don’t need music.”

  “Oh?” Chad’s voice showed little interest. He was too busy flicking a roll of stamps between the “goal posts” of salt and peppershakers.