Excerpt from Who's Getting Married?

Book #1 of the Port Simms Series

Chapter One

     Bad things happen in threes, and Violet, aka Vi Preston was about to get hers. Not of the small variety, either, but real heart-stoppers, the kind that hits hard to the chest, turns the blood cold, and makes a person want to throw up.
     The signs were there before dawn Friday morning, before the Port Simms, Washington, April sun peeked through the clouds and before the robins, Steller’s jays, and song sparrows even thought about starting up with their welcome-to-another-day calls.
     Vi and her black tom cat, Mr. T, the only male she’d kept in her life for more than a few weeks, liked to wake up gently. Which was why she’d programmed the workweek alarm to nudge her awake and start the day off right with a favorite U2 oldie, It’s a Beautiful Day. Oddly, something went haywire and an ear-breaking squeal overriding the music blasted through the bedroom. Startled, she jerked up. Screeching a meow that just about out-boomed the noise, the tom cat darted under the bed.
     Groaning and wondering what’d happened, she stabbed the off button. The squealing stopped, thank you, God. No problem, she’d reload the song later. But the abrupt wakeup had rattled her. Never mind, this was sure to be a banner day. Thanks in part to her leadership, DD Telecom was strong and thriving. With the outstanding performance review she was sure to get this morning and the promotion and subsequent raise that came with it, plus a nice quarterly bonus, life was good.
     Now, if she could shake the sense of unease from that wakeup…
     By nature anxious, she forced her mind elsewhere and thought about tonight and the surprise in store for Gran. After work, she had a dinner date with her at the 709 Retirement Community. The first meal invitation since Vi and her sister Rose had moved her in three weeks earlier. Rose couldn’t make tonight, as she was visiting a luxury spa in Cancun for another week or so. She was the gorgeous sister, while Vi was average-looking with the most smarts.
     The retirement home rules were clear: a trial period of six weeks was okay, expected even, because a person needed time to decide if they liked the place. After that, it was either buy or vacate the premises. Gran was halfway through the trial period. In that short time, she’d made friends and was already talking about staying. But she didn’t have the money to cover a down payment on her unit.
     Not counting Rose and their divorced parents, Gran was the only other member of the family. Years earlier, as a newish widow, her husband Chester having passed away, she’d moved into their childhood home when their father had left for Hawaii with his girlfriend, leaving their mom to hold down two jobs with little time to see them. Gran worked, too, but found time to love and take care of the girls. She’d been the one stable adult in Vi’s life—no drama, no arguments or fighting. She meant everything to Vi, and she and Rose planned to help her buy that unit.
     They had it all figured out. Rose’s surgeon husband Peter had plenty of money. Granted, their thirteen-month marriage was a little rocky, partly because he spent so much time at the hospital or away at medical conferences. He softened Rose’s feelings of neglect by financing her shopping sprees and travel, and she indulged herself with reckless abandon. Unfortunately, he wasn’t willing to donate more than a fraction of what Gran needed to buy her unit at the 709. Vi was supposed to come up with the rest.
     Every penny of the bonus was earmarked for the down payment on the apartment. Vi was going to spring the good news on Gran at dinner tonight.
     While Mr. T cat-strolled toward the kitchen to either await breakfast or use the kitty litter box in the utility room off the townhouse’s kitchen, Vi padded toward the bathroom and thought about the increased income from her raise and what it meant for Gran’s future.
     Normally, she listened to the morning news while showering and dressing. Today, she left her phone alone and thought about the performance review ahead. Between that, her raise, and Rose’s monthly contribution, their grandma could easily manage the mortgage payments. “This will be an amazing day, so forget the abrupt wakeup noise and be happy,” she told herself, her words echoing in the shower stall.
     Yet anxiety hovered like a flittering hummingbird throughout the shower and continued as she stood in front of the bathroom mirror and turned this way and that in her new spring dress, an outfit that screamed rising company star and an upcoming career move to a more profitable team. Once again firmly ignoring the nameless sense of unease, she calmed her wavy, flyaway dark-brown hair with taming conditioner. Her attempt at an everything’s-fine smile failed, and her reflection frowned back at her.
     She threw up her hands. “I don’t have time for this.” Lips compressed, she headed for the kitchen to feed the cat and make coffee and toast. The tom quickly devoured half the food—a dainty eater, he’d nibble the rest throughout the day—and stood at the door, wanting to go out. “You know that isn’t safe,” she said.
     She’d barely sipped the coffee and hadn’t even spread honey on her peanut butter toast when she realized the kitchen clock, which was synchronized with the atomic clock in Colorado, had slowed to a sloth’s pace. The LED said seven thirty-three, when according to the cell phone it was actually eight-ten. Which gave her twenty minutes to get to the meeting on time. Shoot, should’ve replaced the battery.
     Todd Melton, her boss and a senior vice president with the company, had scheduled the performance appraisal for eight-thirty, giving her ten minutes to make the twenty-minute drive. He was a stickler for punctuality, but then so was Vi. Except for this morning.
     Bad thing number one, and the fault was hers alone. Who knew what the next two would be?
     Muttering, she sloshed the coffee into a to-go cup, scooped the toast up in a paper towel, threw her purse strap over her shoulder and rushed out the door.
     As she backed out of the driveway, she sent a text to Todd, letting him know she was stuck in traffic. On the drive, her cell signaled more than a few texts. Which was odd. Probably friends wishing her good luck today. She didn’t want to listen to them now. After the appraisal.
     At the red lights, and wouldn’t you know she hit almost every one, she gobbled the toast. It was the last food she ate until dinner.

*

     Across town, standing in his soon-to-be second BW Bikes store, Blake Wanamaker alternated between relief and stress. Relief that Daisy had ended their relationship last night. She was way more serious than he was and in too big a hurry to move ahead. Stress because she’d also resigned as the head of recruiting and hiring. Getting the store open and running by May first had been problem-riddled enough before she’d quit. Now it’d become a giant pain in the ass.
     From the start, he’d known better than to hire a woman he was seeing to work for him. Dumb move on his part. How was he supposed to know she wanted to get married? He certainly hadn’t led her on. No hot kisses or any kind of fooling around. Heck, they weren’t even serious, and she knew it.
     Now he needed a replacement for her, and fast. He hadn’t had much luck with recruiting companies, but maybe he’d give it another try. Otherwise, he’d be stuck doing the job himself when his plate was already heaped way too high.
     His cell phone chimed with a call. Grandpop, the one person in his life he could depend on. Short-tempered now and then, but steadfast and true. He didn’t phone during work hours unless it was important. Bypassing the noisy workmen whipping the unfinished space into shape, he stepped outside into the coolish morning. “Hey, Grandpop. Everything okay?”
     “Better than ever.” Words Blake hadn’t heard from his lips in years. While he wondered at that, Grandpop went on. “You’re awful calm. What’s wrong?”
     The man knew him so well. Acting and sounding relaxed meant he was stressed, fallout from dealing with a high-strung mother. He glanced at the sky. The clouds couldn’t decide whether to dump rain or skittle past and let the sun shine down, normal weather for an April day in the Pacific Northwest. “You know how it is opening a second location— you opened dozens.”
     “Only ten before I franchised. Trust me on this, each time is easier. You and I haven’t talked in a while, and I sure as heck haven’t seen you. Seems to me, you could do with a break. Come to dinner tonight. They’re serving roast beef or lasagna, your choice.”
     It’d be good to see the man, and the 709 served decent food. Blake scrubbed a hand through his hair, which had gotten long due to lack of time for a trim, and blew out a breath. “Wish I could, but I have a lot to do, including recruiting and hiring staff.”
     “Surely not on a Friday night. I thought Maisy or Daisy, or whatever her name is, was in charge of that.”
     “She was, but we broke up last night, and she quit.”
     “Let me guess—she wanted to get married.”
     Yup. “She invited me out to eat last night and proposed. I turned her down.”
     “That was fast. I’m not surprised she fell for you. You have a way about you that women seem to like.”
     Love hadn’t played into Daisy’s proposal. Nope, she wanted a man to take care of her and had chosen him. Or so she’d strongly hinted. Little gold digger.
     “I only met her the one time when I stopped by the new store to take a look,” Grandpop said. “She wasn’t your type. But you’re thirty now, and I could do with a grandbaby. I understand that after your engagement to Sammi fell through, you got scared about marriage. But that was several years ago, and you’re over it, so lose the excuses and start looking. It’s high time you settled down.”
     Unwanted advice Blake ignored, but he couldn’t let his grandfather’s words stand uncorrected. “The decision to call off the wedding was mutual,” he reminded the man.
     “Then what’s holding you back, boy?”
     “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m kinda busy with the business.” Plus, having had a front-row seat to what happened when things ended in a good marriage had made him wary. When his dad had died unexpectedly some twenty years ago, his mother had gone off the rails. In his view, she still was. She’d been engaged multiple times and had recently signed her second set of divorce papers in four years. Currently, she was in an ashram in India, trying to find herself.
     No, thanks. “Whitney’s pregnant with your first two grandchildren— twins,” he reminded Grandpop.
     “And I’m thrilled. Two is a good start, but it’d be damn nice if you added to the gene pool, too. I’m 78 years old and won’t be around forever.”
     “Don’t try to guilt me. You’re healthier than anyone I know.” Blake changed the subject. “So you think I have a type. Tell me, what would that be?”
     “No idea. I haven’t met her yet. I ordered the lasagna for you. If you want the roast beef instead, I need to get the changed order in.”
     He expected Blake to follow through on the dinner invite, and barring emergencies Blake always had. He owed the man a great deal. After his father had died, Grandpop, Blake’s maternal grandpa, had been a good role model for him and Whitney. He had a gruff side but was solidly behind them and loved them when their mother was wrapped too deeply in grief to pay much attention to them. He’d walked Whitney down the aisle on her wedding day and had also advised Blake on business issues and loaned him the seed money to open the first bike store. It’d be good to see him, and Blake really did need a break. “I’ll stick with the lasagna.”
     “Excellent choice. I reserved a table for six o’clock and am playing bridge at seven-thirty. Don’t be late.”