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That was the mantra Adair recited to herself each morning. Not that she’d ever failed at marriage—she hadn’t had the chance. Six months ago she’d come home to Aunt Vi and the castle to lick her wounds, and they were still fresh. The five-year plan she’d so carefully crafted when she’d finished her MBA had gone south. One day she’d been on the fast track, and the next, the company she’d worked for had downsized and derailed her. Her pink slip had been quickly followed by an email from her boyfriend, Baxter DuBois, terminating their personal relationship, as well.
That’s when she’d moved back to the castle. Now with her aunt’s help and the power of Angus One’s stone arch, she was determined to turn her family home into the wedding destination spot in upstate New York.
And the success of Rexie’s wedding was key. Mr. and Mrs. Winston Maitland III resided on Long Island but also owned homes in Boca Raton, Florida, and Vail, Colorado. They had the kind of social contacts that could make the reputation of Castle MacPherson.
Or break it.
“I’ve seen proof of the stones’ power in my own father’s life,” Adair said. “He’s kissed two women beneath the stone arch, and if he were here, he’d tell you it was the stones that gave him two chances of finding his true loves. He considers himself a very fortunate man.”
Adair held back a little on the details. Her father had taken the loss of her mother so hard that even after he fell in love with Professor Beth Sutherland, it had been a dozen years before he married her. But seven years ago she and her sisters, along with Beth’s three triplet sons, had stood beneath the arch while her father, A.D., and Beth had exchanged vows.
“And your father’s happy?” Rexie asked.
“Yes. There’s real power in the stones. When we were growing up, my sisters and I believed in it so much that we used to write down our dreams and goals and bury them in a metal box beneath some of the loose stones. It was my mother’s old jewelry box so it had three different compartments and we all used different colors of paper.”
She’d nearly forgotten about that box, Adair realized. On the night of her father’s wedding, she’d even written down a particularly erotic fantasy involving Cam Sutherland and buried that, too. She hadn’t thought of it in years. And she hadn’t seen Cam or his brothers since the wedding. They’d been finishing college that year and each had been focused on career plans that kept them very busy. Last she’d heard, Cam was working overseas for the CIA. For an instant his image flashed brightly into her mind and she could see him just as he’d looked that day—the dark, unruly hair, the blue eyes that had always held a dare.
And Cam Sutherland was the last thing she needed to be thinking about right now. If she didn’t get this wedding rehearsal on track, an “affair to remember” was going to take on a whole new, horrible meaning.
She focused on the hint of panic in Rexie’s eyes. And a solution suddenly occurred to her. “Look, why don’t we tap into the power of the legend right now?”
“How?”
“This is just a rehearsal and you won’t actually say your vows, but why don’t you kiss Lawrence? If you do that today while you’re beneath the stone arch, then you should be all set. In the legend, it’s the kiss that does the trick.”
“Really?” Rexie shifted her gaze to where her groom-to-be waited. He was on his cell phone.
“It’s guaranteed,” Adair assured her. “Why don’t we start? Everyone is in place.”
“Except for my father,” Rexie said, her lip trembling. “He’s taking another call on his cell.”
“Mr. Maitland?” Adair spoke in a low tone, but she kept Rexie’s hand firmly gripped in hers.
The bride-to-be’s father held up one finger, but he never stopped talking into his phone. Winston Maitland, a tall stocky man with thinning gray hair, had pretty much had his cell glued to his ear since he’d arrived. So had the groom-to-be for that matter. The jerks. Adair wanted to shake both of them.
That was when she heard it. Just the whisper of thunder. Damn. Keeping Rexie’s hand in a death grip, she angled her head just enough to catch sight of a cluster of dark clouds at the far end of the lake.
A quick glance around told her that so far she was the only one who’d noticed. The sky overhead was bright blue, the garden bathed in sunlight. She sent up a quick prayer that the storm would stay put.
Alba, the white whippet mix her aunt Vi had recently brought home from a shelter, rose from where she’d plopped herself a few feet away on a patch of sun-drenched grass. She shot a look out over the lake, and whined. Adair followed the direction of the dog’s gaze and so did Rexie. The clouds were rolling closer.
“Look. It’s going to rain,” Rexie said. “That’s not a good sign. Maybe we should postpone this.”
Adair tightened her grip on Rexie’s hand. “No. It’s still quite a ways off. We just have to get started.”
Alba whined again, then made a beeline in the direction of the castle, the bell around her neck emphasizing her departure.
Not a good sign.
Though Alba was deaf, her other senses were spot-on, and Adair was willing to bet she could sense the approaching storm. So could the mother of the bride, Bunny Maitland, who sent her a worried look.
Adair tried for a serene smile. The clouds were still a good distance away, she assured herself. Time enough to panic once the lightning started. She waved to get her aunt’s attention.
Viola MacPherson had moved to the castle after Adair’s mom, Marianne, had died. She’d been four, her sisters three and one. Their father had buried himself in his painting, so it was their aunt who’d raised them. She’d given up her job at the nearby college and devoted her life to creating a home for them while providing a haven where their father could continue with his landscape painting.
Now in her late fifties, Viola looked and projected the energy of a much younger woman. Adair had inherited her aunt’s tiny stature as well as the curse of naturally curly red hair. Viola’s cascade of ringlets was gray now, and she managed them by pulling them back from her face. She favored long skirts or wide-leg pants and tunics that went with her gypsy look.
At a signal from Adair, Vi began to play Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy.”
Thunder sounded faintly in the distance.
Refusing to look out over the lake again, Adair directed the flower girl to start down the short path that led from the rose garden to the stone arch. When the little girl was halfway there, Adair gestured to the maid of honor.
“Daddy’s still on his phone,” Rexie whispered.
“Mr. Maitland.” Adair spoke in a low tone.
Frowning at Adair, the man stuffed his cell in a pocket and moved to his daughter’s side. “That was an important call.”
Adair smiled at him. “And this is a very important moment for your daughter. Go.”
Thunder rumbled—closer this time.
Rexie and her father were halfway to the minister when the dark clouds settled like a lid over the garden with such speed and finality she wondered they hadn’t heard a loud clang.
Lightning flashed behind her just as Rexie and her dad made it to the shelter of the stone arch. Adair hurried up the path, grabbing Bunny’s arm on the way. Together they power-walked to join the rest of the wedding party.
Cello in hand, Aunt Vi was the last to make it before the next crack of thunder sounded. Then for a moment, no one spoke as they huddled shoulder to shoulder and watched nature put on a powerful show. Lightning crisscrossed the sky at times so bright Adair found herself blinking. The intermittent explosions of thunder made her wonder if this was what it might be like to be trapped in a bunker during an attack.
And her mind flashed back to the night of her father’s wedding. There’d been a storm like this that night, also. The Sutherland boys, Reid, Cam and Duncan, had flown in just for the wedding and then gone back to their colleges right after the ceremony. She and her sisters hadn’t seen them since that long-ago summer when the boys’ mother, Beth, had been a visiting professor at nearby Huntleigh College and she’d gotten her father’s permission to use the library at the castle for the research she was doing for a historical novel she was writing on the MacPherson clan.
That was the summer when Adair’s fascination with Cam had begun. Because she’d hated him. He’d been a relentless tease, always pulling her curls and calling her “Princess” because she lived in a “castle.” And he’d constantly nagged her to try things she’d never tried before—like climbing over the stone arch.
There were days during that summer when she’d wanted to strangle him.
But strangling hadn’t been on her mind the night of her father’s wedding to Beth Sutherland. Because in the twelve years that had passed, the Sutherlands had changed. Drastically. From annoying, know-it-all ten-year-olds to attractive young men.
What hadn’t changed had been her fascination with Cam. It had flared immediately from the instant he’d arrived at the castle that day.
They weren’t kids on a playdate any more. And while their parents had been pledging their vows beneath the stone arch, her eyes had locked on his, and she’d wanted him in a way that she’d never wanted anyone—or anything. It had thrilled her, terrified her. And it had fueled the fantasy that she’d committed to paper and put into the special metal box that she and her sisters had hidden away in the stone arch.
Lightning flashed again and the thunder roared, instantaneous and deafening, refocusing her thoughts on the present.
Vi whispered in her ear. “This isn’t good.”
Adair had to agree with her aunt. In all her years growing up at the castle, she’d never seen a storm like this one. And it had to happen the day of Rexie Maitland’s wedding rehearsal.
They were so tightly packed in the space that Adair had to crane her neck to meet Rexie’s eyes. Panic was what she saw and she felt an answering surge in herself. Pushing it down, she kept her voice calm and spaced her words to fit in between the claps of thunder. “We should go forward with the rehearsal.”
Not sure how much Rexie heard in the cacophony of sound bombarding them, Adair pursed her lips and pantomimed a kiss. Then she held her breath, willing Rexie to kiss Lawrence and seal the deal. Not for the first time, she wished she had at least a smidgen of the power Macbeth’s witches had.
Thunder cracked so loud Adair was certain the rocks beneath her feet moved. Aunt Vi grabbed her hand and held on hard. Adair kept her gaze on Rexie, her willpower on at full throttle.
Finally, Rexie turned to Lawrence and put her hands on his shoulders to get his attention. A second later, he began to lower his head.
Lightning flashed, so close this time that Adair could smell it, and the ground beneath them shook—enough to tear Rexie out of Lawrence’s arms just before their lips met and thrust her backward into the minister. Adair heard stones tumble from the front of the arch before thunder deafened her.
When the earth stilled again, Adair found herself held tightly in her aunt Vi’s arms, a cello pressed hard against her thigh. Rexie was in her mother’s arms. Not good. Lawrence and Winston had their heads close. The maid of honor had picked up the flower girl and the best man had slumped onto a ledge, his face sheet-white.
When the storm had moved off so that conversation was a possibility, everyone began to talk at once, their voices pitched almost as low as the now-fading thunder. But the main consensus was that the stone arch they were standing under had just been struck by lightning.
Vi was looking at the stones that formed the arch over their heads. “We’re lucky they held, but we should have someone check them.”
Adair figured checking the stone arch was the least of her problems. The biggest one was headed toward her, elbowing her way through the group. When Rexie reached her, she said, “I’m calling off the wedding.” Then she burst into tears.
2
AN HOUR LATER, Adair stepped out of her room and went in search of her aunt. After finally seeing the Maitlands off, she’d spent some time in the shower replaying everything that had happened in her mind, going over the should-have-saids and could-have-dones. Her ex-boyfriend Bax had always criticized her for trying to second-guess herself.
Maybe he’d been right. In the downsizing at her former company, he’d kept his job. She hadn’t.
Pushing that thought out of her mind, she went back to her replay. The shouting match that had occurred after the lightning strike and Rexie’s hysterical announcement had rivaled the storm for intensity. Mr. Maitland had claimed the lightning strike was a sign they should change the venue for the ceremony back to Long Island, which had triggered a fresh eruption of tears from the bride and a yelling match between her parents. Using the noise as a cover, she’d told the groom that he’d better soothe his bride-to-be.
The fact that she’d had to jump-start him had bothered her. If he hadn’t been late for the rehearsal, the storm and the lightning strike wouldn’t have been an issue. But he’d said something to Rexie that had calmed her while she concentrated on the parents.
Before they’d driven away, Rexie had agreed to postpone her decision to cancel the wedding. The men had departed for Long Island but Adair had booked Rexie and Bunny into the Eagle’s Nest, a bed-and-breakfast in the nearby village of Glen Loch, so they could return to the castle in the morning when their nerves had settled to give her their decision. The one thing that Rexie had remained firm on was that if the wedding was going forward, it would be held at Castle MacPherson.
Which was exactly what she wanted, too. Wasn’t it?
And why was that even a question she was thinking about? Of course she wanted the wedding to go forward. What kind of a businesswoman was she? Good ones didn’t sabotage their own business plans.
She just had to keep her focus. But it was hard to ignore that lightning strike, or the fact that it had occurred at the exact moment when Lawrence was about to kiss Rexie and seal the deal.
The moment she stepped out onto the veranda that ran along the back of the house and spotted Vi sitting at a table with an opened bottle of wine and two glasses, some of her tension eased. It didn’t surprise her that her aunt had chosen this place to wait for her. The back of the castle, with its flagstone terraces dropping in levels to the lake, had always been one of Adair’s favorite spots. She noted that the water was calm and stunningly blue, its surface a perfect reflection of the now-cloudless sky overhead. The only reminder of the violent storm was a fading rainbow.
Alba lay sprawled nearby on the flagstones, totally exhausted by the day. Adair could certainly sympathize with the feeling, but her own day had a ways to go. There was a decision to be made.
She joined her aunt and accepted the glass of wine.
Vi clinked her glass to Adair’s. “To a job well done.”
“I haven’t done anything yet.”
Vi sampled the wine. “You’ve weathered a lightning strike, you’ve calmed down a very upset bride and her parents. And you’ll see to it that more rational minds will prevail in the morning.”
“And what if I’m wrong?”
“Wrong in what way?”
Setting her wine down, Adair reached out and took one of her aunt’s hands. “You know how much I want this wedding to take place on Saturday.”
Vi brought her other hand to cover her niece’s in a gesture that was achingly familiar to Adair.
“Ever since you were a child, whenever you’ve set yourself a goal you’ve achieved it. Not only that, you egged your younger sisters into setting their own goals. Look where they are right now. Piper is working for a famous defense attorney in D.C., and Nell is touring the country on a grant that allows her to teach creative writing classes in disadvantaged schools and at the same time, promote her first children’s story.”
Adair shook her head. “I’m not doing that well in the goal achievement game anymore.”
“Why on earth would you think that?”
“Because the first curveball that life threw at me …” She paused and waved her free hand. “I ran away and came back here. I’m not proud of that.”
Vi studied her for a moment. “You’re not your father, Adair. If that’s what you’re worried about.”
Perhaps it was, Adair thought. Her aunt had always been able to hit the nail on the head. Perhaps that fear was at the heart of the gnawing anxiety she’d felt ever since she’d left Chicago.
“When your mother, Marianne, died, he did run,” Vi said. “He hid for years, burying himself in his art and his teaching at the college.”
“I’ve never understood him. He met Beth Sutherland when I was nine, the summer that she did her research in the library and we had all those long afternoon playdates with the Sutherland boys. Nell saw Dad kiss her once beneath the stones. We thought they might get married and that we’d all become a family. But then she went back to Chicago and he went back to his painting and we didn’t see any of them again until the wedding seven years ago. And Beth and Dad are so happy now, traveling the world, each pursuing their dreams. Why did they wait?”
“Because they needed to. They had young children to think about, careers to pursue. She came here to do her research shortly after her husband had been found guilty of fraud and sent to prison. His family was wealthy and they tried to sue for custody. She felt that building her career was essential to holding on to her sons. And your father always had his art to return to. They waited for a better time. That’s where you’re different, Adair. You don’t wait for anything.”
Adair blinked. “I don’t?”
Vi laughed. “Good Lord, I can barely keep up with you. You didn’t even have your bags all unpacked when that feature writer from the Times visited us for an interview. I could almost see the lightbulb go on over your head. The very next day you were plotting out a business plan for the castle. And when the article stirred up interest in the legend and Eleanor’s missing sapphires, you had brochures printed to hand out to the tourists who started arriving on the weekends.”
Adair shrugged. “I just capitalized on the buzz the rumors of a missing and possibly priceless collection of gems created. They’ll die down again.”
“The point I’m making is that you didn’t hesitate to capitalize on that buzz to promote the legend surrounding the stones. I’ve never known you to hide, Adair. And while you were showering and changing, I’m betting you marshaled together a strategy for handling Bunny and Rexie tomorrow morning.”
Adair took a sip of her wine. “I think I’ve got that covered. Sure, lightning struck during the rehearsal, but did it do any permanent damage? No. The stone arch is still there. Indestructible. So it still has the power to unite Rexie with the love of her life on Saturday. And that marriage will be just as indestructible.”
“Very nice argument.”
“Yeah. If Lawrence Banes is the love of her life,” Adair said. “He was late to the rehearsal, and it was his schedule that had required it to take place two days before the wedding. Plus, he was texting on his cell instead of trying to support Rexie when she became hysterical after the lightning strike.”
Vi merely met her eyes, saying nothing. It was a ploy that her aunt had used very successfully when she and her sisters had been trying to explain some of the mischief they’d gotten into.
“Okay, maybe he’s just a jerk,” she conceded. “A jerk she’s in love with.”
“Or maybe he’s just as nervous as the bride. When you first explained your business plan to me you defined our role pretty clearly.”
Adair raised a hand, palm out. “Right. We’re not matchmakers or relationship counselors. Our job is to provide the perfect wedding and let the stone arch do its work.”
She rose then and walked to the low stone wall that bordered the veranda. Beyond the gardens she could see the curve of the stone arch. Vi joined her and put an arm around her shoulder. “But? I hear a but in there.”
“I can’t help thinking that’s what the lightning strike was about. I suggested to Rexie that she kiss Lawrence today during the rehearsal to seal the deal. That way she could walk down the aisle on Saturday knowing that she was marrying her true love. But the lightning prevented the kiss. Maybe the power of the stones is working against this wedding.”
Even as she said the words, an image from an old movie filled her mind—a bride running down the aisle. Quickly, she shoved it aside. That kind of thing didn’t happen in real life. Did it? “We really need to pull off this wedding, Aunt Vi.”
