Picture Perfect (Weddings by Design Book #1): A Novel, Page 2

  I gasped at this news. “Over what?”

  “Land, a’ course. What else?”

  “There were no cameras involved? No photography businesses?”

  Dad grunted. “A’ course not. We’re talkin’ hundreds a’ years ago. No such thing as cameras back then.”

  “What happened?”

  “The Kincaids lost their land in a bloody battle between the clans and vowed to fight till the death to get it back. So far they haven’t been successful. In fact, tempers still flare in the old country whenever a McDermott and a Kincaid cross paths.” He slipped into Gaelic, words laced with passion.

  “No way.” My heart quickened at that news. “Are you sure about this?”

  “Check it out in the history books. You’ll see it’s quite a story. So don’t fret over this Kincaid fellow. He comes from a long line of losers.”

  “Wow.”

  “You’re a McDermott, darlin’,” my father said. “We McDermotts always come out on top if we don’t give up. So don’t go down without a fight. Remember that and you’ll go a long way in this life. Remember what your grandfather always said too: ‘Enthusiasm is like a fire that needs an occasional poke with a stick.’”

  He laughed and I joined in. In fact, I could almost envision my grandfather’s face.

  “Just stir the embers,” my dad said. “Keep the flame lit, Shutter Speed.”

  “Gotcha.” I released a slow breath. “Thanks again, Dad. Give Mama a kiss from me.”

  “Always happy to kiss your mother.” He half mumbled something in Gaelic, then the call ended. I could almost picture him doing a little jig across the house to sweep Mama into his arms.

  Ah, romance! When would it knock me off my feet like that?

  Never, if I spent eighty hours a week focused on my business. Still, what else could I do? We McDermotts didn’t go down without a fight, as Dad said. Not that I needed to fret over the whole Drew Kincaid thing, apparently. Like my clan members, I would win the battle. I would claim the land, conquer my foes, and take some impressive wrinkle-free photos of the biggest diva in country music history.

  And somehow manage to impress Galveston Island’s top wedding planner along the way.

  2

  The Little Things in Life

  May those who love us, love us.

  And for those who don’t love us,

  May God turn their hearts.

  And if he cannot turn their hearts,

  May he turn their ankles,

  So we may know them by their limping.

  Irish saying

  After touching up my lipstick, I headed into Starbucks dressed in my most professional attire and carrying a portfolio that would’ve made a novice photographer shamrock-green with envy. Why, then, did I have to blow it the moment the reporter walked in the door by rambling as if I’d consumed nothing but caffeine all day? Oh, right. Because I hadn’t.

  The cup of cinnamon dolce latte that I purchased trembled in my hand as I took the seat across from the frazzled blonde reporter who introduced herself as Dani. She gave me a pensive look as she pulled an iPad out of her purse and turned it on. “Start over, Hannah,” she said, her thinly plucked brows elevating as she tried to keep up with me. “But slow down this time. I don’t want to miss a thing.”

  After clearing my throat, I began my speech again, this time pacing my words. “I was just saying that wedding pictures don’t tell the whole story. Not even close.” Taking a sip of my latte, I tried to look poised and professional. Unfortunately, my acting skills had never been very good.

  “Meaning?” She typed a few words into her touch-sensitive keyboard, using the two-finger method.

  I released a slow breath and delivered my carefully rehearsed speech. “Photographers work hard to capture the glorious moments. The radiant smile on the bride’s face as she takes her first step down the aisle. The look of wonder coming from the groom as he catches a glimpse of his bride for the first time. The backdrop of a gorgeous wedding facility—especially if it happens to be Club Wed, the prettiest place to get married on Galveston Island.”

  Dani looked up from her iPad and sighed. “Don’t you just love Club Wed? My sister Sharlene got married there a few years ago. Her ceremony made the papers because it was their first official themed wedding.”

  “The boot-scootin’ country-western one?” I could hardly believe it. That wedding was infamous.

  “That’s the one.” She grinned. “Now you see why I’m so interested in the place. I’d like to get married there myself someday.”

  “Who wouldn’t? But you’d better go ahead and book it now if you’re serious. I hear they’ve got a waiting list a mile long.”

  Dani released a little sigh. “Well, I’m not exactly engaged yet. Just wishful thinking on my part. Every girl wants the perfect wedding.”

  “Of course. Club Wed is definitely the best venue on the island and the perfect place to capture those rare, once-in-a-lifetime photos.”

  “Like?”

  “Like . . .” I paused to think it through, my eyes fluttering closed as the images presented themselves in my mind’s eye. “Like the close-up of a lone tear as it slips down the cheek of the mother of the bride. And that made-for-the-camera moment when the bridesmaids and groomsmen take their places alongside the bride and groom, forming a perfect V-shape with the minister at the very center.” At this point, I added all the dramatic flair I could muster as I punctuated each word. “These are the things we attempt to catch through the eye of the camera.”

  “And you do a lovely job.” Dani continued to type in her notes, then glanced my way. “I looked through the photos you sent. I’ve never seen such beautiful wedding portraits, and I’m not just saying that. They’re exquisite.”

  “Aw, thank you.” Her words boosted my confidence and almost made me feel worthy of this interview. Almost.

  With a bit of maneuvering on her screen, she pulled up the photos I’d emailed, and we both leaned in to have a closer look. I couldn’t help but smile as a picture of my most recent bride filled the screen. Dani gave me a little wink as she enlarged it with a swipe of her fingers.

  “I’ve already talked to my editor. Texas Bride is going to feature some of your photographs along with this interview. Quite an honor.” She reached into her bag and came out with some legal-looking papers. “Of course, you’ll have to sign these copyright release forms and mail them to me. You okay with that?”

  “Sure.” I was completely overwhelmed by this amazing opportunity.

  I turned as the barista called out someone’s order—a caramel mocha macchiato. My stomach rumbled, another reminder that I needed real food, not more coffee.

  Focus, Hannah. You may never get another chance like this.

  I released a slow breath and faced the reporter once again. “As I was saying, there are some not-to-be-missed photo ops at a wedding, but I think it’s only fair to add that there are a few things we photographers deliberately leave out, things the average wedding guest never sees. This is what makes or breaks a photographer, in my opinion. And I would like to think that’s what sets me apart from the competition.” My eyes fluttered closed again, and an image of Drew Kincaid flitted across my mind. Remembering my father’s story about the Kincaids and McDermotts, I trembled. Better stay focused on the interview, not my competition.

  “Things you leave out?” Dani’s brow wrinkled. “Like what?”

  I opened my eyes and offered a confident smile. “Oh, say, the bride screaming at the bridesmaids just minutes before she walks down the aisle, or the flower girl throwing a fit in her beautiful dress. The caterer realizing she forgot to bring the duck a l’Orange, or the florist scrambling to make an extra bridesmaid bouquet with only seconds to spare. I’ve seen all of that and much more.”

  Should I tell her about the drunk-as-a-skunk father of the bride who’d shown up fifteen minutes before his daughter’s scheduled ceremony? I’d poured three cups of hot coffee down that man’s throat t
o prep him for his walk down the aisle. Nah. Better not share that story just yet.

  “Ooh, your life sounds so glamorous.” Dani entered more notes, then looked up, her eyes narrowing. “What else have you got?”

  I thought for a moment. “Well, I worked one wedding where the four-tiered cake toppled just before the reception. Thank goodness I got a couple of pictures before it hit the floor. See what I mean? It’s all about knowing what to shoot and when. I always get a few shots of the cake before anyone arrives, just in case.”

  “Wow.” Dani gave me an admiring look. “You’ve got this down to a science.”

  “Yep.” I chuckled. “I’ve learned a lot from Bella Neeley, the coordinator at Club Wed. She’s the best in the business.” Please make sure you print that. I flashed Dani a smile, but her gaze had shifted back to the iPad. “We’ve done a couple of weddings together, and I’m so grateful for the things she’s taught me. She’s such a wedding pro, loaded with great information about the biz.”

  “Speaking of the wedding business, one of Bella’s brothers is a photographer too, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, Joey. I’ve never met him, actually. He and his wife just moved to Italy to help with the family’s wedding facility in Naples.”

  “Sounds like a dream job.” Dani sighed.

  “No kidding.” I smiled, in part because losing Joey to Italy meant Bella would be calling on me more to take photographs at Club Wed. I hoped so, anyway. It probably wouldn’t hurt to mention her name a couple more times in this interview, just to be safe.

  Dani shifted in her seat as the already crowded coffee shop took in extra patrons. As the table next to us filled with teenagers, the noise level rose, and so did the pitch of Dani’s voice. “So, you were telling me about things not to capture on film at a wedding.”

  “Right. Well, I shot this one wedding where the mother of the groom refused to be escorted down the aisle because she hated her future daughter-in-law.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Bella gave me the idea, actually.” Score! Another shameless plug for the woman who holds my career in her hands! “We spent a couple of minutes before the wedding showing the mother photographs I’d just taken of her son in his tuxedo, looking content and happy. That won her over.”

  “Perfect. You’re a master.”

  “Aw, thanks. I try.” Another story came to mind. “This is the worst one of all. I worked an over-the-top wedding for a well-to-do Houston family where the best man and matron of honor were having a romantic tryst.” I took a sip of my coffee to wash away the bitter taste that filled my mouth at the memory of the event.

  “They met at the wedding and fell in love?” Dani giggled. “How sweet.”

  “Actually . . .” I leaned in to whisper the details so that the family at the next table wouldn’t overhear. “They were married to other people. I happened in on them in the chapel after everyone else had gone to the reception hall.”

  “Oh, ouch.”

  “Right. I’d gone back in there to snag a few photos of the unity candle and candelabras. Found something else entirely.” A shiver ran down my spine as I relived that horrible moment. “I’m just saying some things are best not committed to film.” I picked up my coffee and took a sip, now deep in thought. Placing the cup back on the table, I continued. “After years in the business, I’ve become skilled at knowing which shots to catch and which ones to avoid.”

  “It’s truly an art form, then.”

  “I’d like to think so.”

  The deep bellow of a ship’s horn sounded, and I glanced out the window of the Starbucks. Across the street, well within eyesight, a massive Carnival cruise ship pulled out of port. Twisted memories snaked through my mind as I watched the cruisers wave their goodbyes from the top deck. How many times had I stood in that spot, camera in hand? Another blast of the ship’s horn startled me back to attention. I rubbed my eyes, feeling a headache coming on.

  “Hannah?” Dani gave me a curious look.

  “Yes?” I turned to her with what I hoped would look like a confident nod. “Sorry. Just thinking about those cruisers.”

  “Oh, that’s right.” She gave me a pensive look. “I think I read somewhere that you once worked on a cruise ship, taking photos of the passengers. Is that right?”

  “Yes.” Not that I wanted to talk about it. I wouldn’t garner much respect from Bella or from future clients if Texas Bride printed the details of my very messy breakup with the cruise director of the Clarity. I cringed just thinking about it.

  “Now tell me about . . .” Dani glanced at her notepad, then back up again. “Drew Kincaid.”

  “Drew Kincaid?” I tried to maintain a calm expression, all the while sword fighting the demons of envy that danced in front of my eyes. “What about him?”

  Dani referred to her notes. “Well, I see that the two of you have quite a competitive thing going on. Kincaid Photography took the number-one spot on Bella’s list, after all. You took the number two. Want to tell our readers about that?”

  I’d rather not, thanks.

  Who cared if my blue-eyed distraction made it to the top of Bella’s list? He wasn’t the one shooting Sierra Caswell’s wedding, now was he?

  Swallowing hard, I chose my next words carefully. “I’ve known Drew about a year and a half. He’s very good at what he does.”

  “Better than you?” she teased.

  “Hardly.” I bit back the rest of the words that threatened to escape. “I mean, I’d like to think I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.”

  “Like the one where you make the competition disappear?” She gave me a wink.

  “That’s the idea.”

  “Well then, why don’t you tell our readers about some of those tricks you’ve been hiding. Let’s start with the wedding you’re photographing the first weekend in December. Everyone in town is talking about it. Must be quite an honor, working with Sierra Caswell.” Dani’s eyes sparkled. “I mean, a mega country singer like Sierra’s been photographed by hundreds of photographers all over the world. How are you going to capture her on the big day?”

  With a net and a rope?

  How could I explain the situation and still come out smelling like a rose? Frankly, I couldn’t wait for this wedding to be behind me so I could move forward with a saner, happier bride-to-be, someone who treated me with respect and kindness.

  Divert her, Hannah. Come up with one of Grandpa Aengus’s proverbs. Something witty.

  “Every dog is bold on its own doorstep,” I managed. Where the words came from, I couldn’t say.

  Really, Hannah? That’s the best you’ve got—that stupid “dog on the doorstep” proverb?

  “W-what?” She looked my way, the lines of concentration deepening along her brows and under her eyes.

  I swallowed hard, feeling like an idiot. “Oh, I’m just saying that, um, the boldness I feel—or, rather, the sense of confidence I have in photographing Sierra Caswell—is much the same as a dog on his doorstep.” I gave a weak smile, though I felt like a blithering idiot.

  “Are . . . are you calling yourself a dog?” Dani looked more confused than ever.

  “Oh. Well, no. Not really. Just saying that I am confident I’ll do a good job of capturing photos of Sierra on her big day.”

  “Ah. Well, why didn’t you just say so?”

  Because I was trying to distract you. And apparently it worked.

  I somehow diverted Dani’s attention once again by talking about the most recent wedding I’d photographed, an Irish shindig featuring my younger sister Deidre as the bride. That seemed to put the reporter at ease. For a while. She finally came back around to her questions about Sierra Caswell, and with a smile plastered on my face, I answered to the best of my ability.

  At three o’clock, just as several patrons headed out of the coffee shop, Dani glanced at her watch and gasped. “Oh, I can’t believe we’ve been here this long. Do you mind? I really need to . . .” Her words drifted off as she glanced
at the door.

  “You have another appointment?”

  “Yes, actually, I—”

  “No biggie.” I rose and reached for my purse and portfolio. “I’ve got to get back to work. Can’t wait to see the article in print. And I’ll be sure to fill out the copyright permission forms so you can use those photos. I’ll sign them and fax them back to you this evening.”

  “Great. I appreciate it.” Her gaze shifted to the door of the coffee shop as it swung open.

  My breath caught in my throat as the ever-gorgeous Drew Kincaid stepped inside. Ribbons of sunlight reflected off his stunning blond hair. He flashed that cool smile of his, and those blue eyes shimmered with mischief as he walked toward us.

  “Well now.” He stopped at our table and focused on me. “Never expected to see you here, Hannah.” He turned to Dani, still offering that boyish grin, his firm mouth curved as if on the edge of laughter. “And you must be Dani. From Texas Bride?”

  He extended his hand, but my focus was on the broad shoulders and muscular arms. Why did the competition have to be so . . . hot? He looked devilishly handsome and forced my attention away from the conversation at hand. I did my best to shift my gaze, but how could I, with that deep blue shirt matching his eyes so perfectly? And why did his face have to be bronzed by the wind and sun? Who had skin like that in late September?

  “I—I’m Dani.” The reporter took his hand, almost knocking over my coffee in the process. “Nice to meet you.”

  His smile widened, his teeth strikingly white against his tanned face. “Well, I hope I haven’t missed all the fun.” Drew pulled up a chair between us and took a seat, then plunked his portfolio on the table.