Outstanding praise for the novels of Holly Chamberlin!
THE SUMMER NANNY
“A satisfying and multifaceted story that keeps
readers guessing. For fans of similar works by
authors such as Shelley Noble and Nancy Thayer.”
—Library Journal
THE SEASON OF US
“A warm and witty tale. This heartfelt and emotional story
will appeal to members of the Sandwich Generation or
anyone who has had to set aside long-buried childhood
resentments for the well-being of an aging parent. Fans of
Elin Hilderbrand and Wendy Wax will adore this genuine
exploration of family bonds, personal growth, and acceptance.”
—Booklist
THE BEACH QUILT
“Particularly compelling.”—The Pilot
SUMMER FRIENDS
“A thoughtful novel.”—Shelf Awareness
“A great summer read.”—Fresh Fiction
“A novel rich in drama and insights into what factors bring
people together and, just as fatefully, tear them apart.”
—The Portland Press Herald
THE FAMILY BEACH HOUSE
“Explores questions about the meaning
of home, family dynamics and tolerance.”
—The Bangor Daily News
“An enjoyable summer read, but it’s more. It is a novel for all
seasons that adds to the enduring excitement of Ogunquit.”
—The Maine Sunday Telegram
“It does the trick as a beach book and provides
a touristy taste of Maine’s seasonal attractions.”
—Publishers Weekly
Books by Holly Chamberlin
LIVING SINGLE
THE SUMMER OF US
BABYLAND
BACK IN THE GAME
THE FRIENDS WE KEEP
TUSCAN HOLIDAY
ONE WEEK IN DECEMBER
THE FAMILY BEACH HOUSE
SUMMER FRIENDS
LAST SUMMER
THE SUMMER EVERYTHING CHANGED
THE BEACH QUILT
SUMMER WITH MY SISTERS
SEASHELL SEASON
THE SEASON OF US
HOME FOR THE SUMMER
HOME FOR CHRISTMAS
THE SUMMER NANNY
A WEDDING ON THE BEACH
Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation
A Wedding on the Beach
Holly Chamberlin
KENSINGTON BOOKS
www.kensingtonbooks.com
Table of Contents
Praise
Also by
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Epigraph
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Chapter 92
Chapter 93
Chapter 94
Chapter 95
Chapter 96
Chapter 97
Chapter 98
Chapter 99
Chapter 100
Chapter 101
Chapter 102
Chapter 103
Chapter 104
Chapter 105
Chapter 106
Chapter 108
Chapter 109
Chapter 110
Chapter 111
Chapter 112
Chapter 113
Chapter 114
Teaser chapter
A WEDDING ON THE BEACH
DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2019 by Elise Smith
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN-13: 978-1-4967-1921-8 (ebook)
ISBN-10: 1-4967-1921-2 (ebook)
Kensington Electronic Edition: July 2019
ISBN: 978-1-4967-1920-1
As always, for Stephen
And this time also for Amy
Acknowledgments
Once again, thanks and gratitude to John Scognamiglio. And to my father, now in a far better place, the most thanks and gratitude of all. A man among men.
When friendships are real, they are not glass threads or frost work, but the solidest things we can know.
—Ralph Waldo Emerson
Chapter 1
Bess Culpepper steered her white Subaru wagon past the First Congregational Church at the crossroads of North Street and Log Cabin Road, noting with pleasure the pristine whiteness of the stately
old building. Just beyond the church was the serenely charming Arundel Cemetery with its well-tended stone grave markers. Not many moments later Bess turned left onto Main Street, making a right onto Western Avenue at the Village Baptist Church.
She didn’t need to drive through Kennebunkport—a town founded in 1653—in order to reach her destination, but she so loved the quaint town with its charming boutiques, beautiful homes, and the famous, though unassuming, bridge over the Kennebunk River that she chose to do so, patiently inching her way through the heavy summer traffic. Kennebunkport’s year-round community was small—only a few thousand people made their homes there through winter—but in summer the population swelled to much larger numbers.
As Bess drove through Dock Square—at an even slower pace; cars vied with heavy foot traffic—she recalled the many delicious dinners she had eaten at Hurricane Restaurant, and the excellent local musicians she had heard there as well. She vowed to stop into Abacus Gallery before long; there was always something special and absolutely essential to be found there. Bess loved to shop.
Once out of the center of town, she made a left and began the final leg of her journey to Birmingham Beach along roads that were shady with the dark green leaves of trees and bordered by charming Colonial-style homes, their lawns colorful with blooming rhododendrons, their gardens bright with peonies and roses.
Summer had always been Bess’s favorite time of the year. Winters in Maine were long and more often than not, brutal. Fall was gorgeous but too short, and many years spring came almost too late to be properly appreciated. But summer! Now there was a season to be cherished. The sun in the sky until nearly eight o’clock; temperatures that didn’t call for layers of fleece and wool; the sound of local bands playing rock and blues at the restaurants with decks and patios. Summer provided an excuse (as if there needed to be one) to eat ice cream whenever the mood struck and to wear bright and happy colors with pretty names like Mint Froth and Petunia Pink, and to visit the beach without the risk of frostbite.
And this summer would be the most special of them all because this summer forty-two-year-old Bess would be getting married. Like many women, she had dreamed of her wedding day since she was a little girl, long before she had any conception of the real meaning behind the pomp and ceremony. She had pored over magazines and websites, and had spent just as many hours imagining scenarios based on the classic fairy tales she had read and the movies she had watched throughout her childhood and adolescence. The magnificent wedding scene in The Sound of Music. Audrey Hepburn wearing Givenchy in Funny Face. Queen Victoria marrying her beloved Albert. Sigh.
The details of a wedding—from the dress to the veil, from the ring to the bouquet—had been easy to conjure, even as she progressed through varying moods and fancies. At twelve Bess had thought Princess Diana’s frothy confection by David and Elizabeth Emanuel was the model for the perfect wedding gown. At twenty, she had considered the possibility of getting married at the top of Cadillac Mountain, a location that seemed to call for a lacy, prairie-style dress, like something a Bohemian bride might have worn back in the 1960s. At thirty, a sleek frock like the one by Narciso Rodriguez that Carolyn Bessette had worn on her wedding day had seemed just the thing.
What had been more difficult to imagine through the years was the groom, that necessary figure who would make a wedding possible. But Bess hadn’t been worried. Prince Charming would make an appearance at the right time as all romantic heroes did. He might come in an initially off-putting packaging like The Beast or in an all-around glossy form like—well, like Prince Charming—or somewhere in between the two, a Mr. Darcy complete with a bit too much pride or prejudice but an otherwise stellar character and on sound financial footing to boot. Bess had dated enough deadbeat guys to appreciate the value of financial health.
But as she approached her fortieth birthday Bess had begun, just a little, to doubt that her very own Knight in Shining Armor would ever show up to walk side by side with her through life. She needn’t have worried. Less than a year later, Nathan Creek, a widower for the past twenty odd years, had spotted her across a crowd of party-goers, introduced himself, and asked if he might take her to dinner one evening. Bess had said yes; three months later, Nathan had proposed; in about two weeks’ time they would be married.
For the past eleven years, Bess had owned a party and event planning company called Joie de Vivre. The business continued to flourish even in years when the economy was not as robust as anyone would like it to be. People needed to honor loved ones and to acknowledge milestones no matter how much or how little money they had. Bess strove tirelessly to create special occasions tailored for each client; she loved what she did and could think of no career for which she was better suited.
So, when it came time to plan her own wedding, Bess was in the perfect position to make her dream a reality. A wedding on the beach. That was what she wanted, and that was what she was going to have. And an essential component of that wedding was a charming vacation house from which Bess could hold court prior to the big day.
Her amazing assistant, Kara, had found just such a place. Driftwood House had cost Bess a fortune, as the owners quite wisely preferred to rent for a four-week minimum, Maine’s short summer being prime time for discriminating vacationers. But nothing was too good for her wedding or, perhaps even more importantly, for her friends. And not just any friends. The friends she had made in college and had kept and cherished all the years since. Marta Kennedy, long married to Mike MacIntosh, another of the old gang. Chuck Fortunato, now husband to Dean Williams. And Allison and Chris Montague.
There was only one dark spot in the sunny scenario. Two of those dear friends, a couple since freshman year of college, were nearing the finalization of a divorce. Bess and the others were deeply puzzled. No explanation or excuse had been offered. Questions had been deflected or met with silence. Endless hours had been spent guessing at reasons why the seemingly golden marriage of two such perfectly matched people as Allison and Chris was about to be so decidedly broken.
The upsetting fact of the impending divorce hadn’t put Bess off from wanting—indeed, from needing—both Allison and Chris at her wedding. Even the fact, recently uncovered by Mike through an unprofessionally chatty colleague in the law, that Chris had been the leader in the divorce proceedings hadn’t put Bess off inviting him.
Marta, however, had strongly suggested that before extending Chris an invitation Bess ask Allison how she felt about her soon-to-be former husband attending the wedding. So, Bess had called Allison one evening and after a few minutes of small talk had broached the delicate subject. “I’m thinking of asking Chris to the wedding,” she said. “But I wanted to check with you first. It’s totally fine if you say you’d rather I didn’t. The decision is yours.”
After a long moment of silence Allison had given her permission if not exactly her blessing. “Of course, you should ask him if that’s what you really want. It’s your day, Bess. It’s all about the bride.”
For a split second Bess had wondered if Allison had meant something snide by that last remark but dismissed her suspicion as ridiculous. Allison was never snide. Still, Bess had gone on to extract a promise from her old friend that she was one hundred percent sure that she was okay with Chris attending the wedding. “It’s just that it would be a shame for him not to be there,” she said. “Even knowing. . . even knowing that it was Chris who initiated the divorce.”
Allison had laughed then, an unhappy laugh. “I suppose I should have known it would come out sooner or later,” she said.
But she had offered no further information and ended the call quickly after that. Bess sent the wedding invitations the very next morning. Before a full week had passed Chris had returned the reply card with the WILL NOT ATTEND box firmly checked off and a brief note scrawled on the back of the card. I wish you and Nathan the best, it read.
“I’m sure he’d like to come to the wedding,” Bess told Marta on the phone that night. “He probably
just thinks that it would be awkward seeing Allison. I’ll tell him that Allison is fine with his being there. He’ll change his mind. You’ll see.” Marta had not been so sure.
Bess had gone on to pursue Chris with a vengeance, first with texts and e-mails and when they went unanswered, with a handwritten letter. When after two weeks Bess had received no reply to this missive, she had called his cell phone; the call had gone to voice mail and Bess had left a carefully rehearsed message in a determinedly chipper voice.
Still, Chris did not respond and finally, with both Marta and Nathan urging she back off, Bess agreed to leave the matter alone. But in spite of Marta’s telling her that she was being dangerously naïve in thinking that by bringing Allison and Chris together under the same roof she would work a miracle of reconciliation—and that was indeed Bess’s fond hope—Bess wasn’t sure she had done the right thing by ending her campaign to get Chris to join his old friends at her wedding this summer.
Driftwood House! There it was just ahead. Bess turned into the drive and parked outside the three-car garage. The house really was lovely. Built about ten years earlier, the cedar shingles had softened to silver. Gables, a traditional aspect of the Shingle Style home, gave a soaring aspect to the two-story structure. A back porch looked out over a lawn that rolled gently down to a set of wooden stairs that led directly onto Birmingham Beach. There could be no more perfect setting for Bess’s perfect wedding.