The Wedding Chapel Read online

  The Wedding Chapel

  Caroline Mickelson

  Bon Accord Press

  The Wedding Chapel

  Copyright © 2014 Caroline Mickelson

  All rights reserved

  Published by Bon Accord Press

  Contents

  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

  More Books You May Enjoy

  A note from Caroline

  Also by the Author

  Chapter 1

  “If that’s another past due notice, Grandpa, you can just turn around and go out the way you came in.” Bella Johnson tossed her pencil down on top of the pad she’d just been scrawling figures in. She eyed the stack of mail in her grandfather’s hand. “I don’t want those envelopes anywhere near my desk. Unless you think one of them might contain a check?”

  “Sorry, sugar plum, no sign of incoming currency in these.” Clive Johnson, the seventy-two-year-old founder and owner of the Hopeful Hearts Wedding Chapel, tossed the white envelopes on his granddaughter’s desk. He dropped a quick kiss on the top of her head and then smiled an optimistic smile. “But remember, this is Las Vegas and our luck’s bound to change at any moment.”

  “Precisely what I’m afraid of,” Bella said. She ignored the new bills. They could just wait in line behind the other requests for payment from local florists, photographers, and assorted wedding vendors. “Next I’m afraid you’re going to tell me that our new Elvis has gained weight and can’t fit into his jumpsuit.”

  “Okay, so I won’t tell you that I saw him at the ice cream shop around the corner. My word, the man appears to love fudge sauce.”

  Bella couldn’t keep a smile from her face. “Grandpa, are you teasing me?”

  “I am. Consider it the desperate attempt of an old man to bring a bit of humor into your day. Did I succeed?” His expression was hopeful.

  “Your nefarious plan worked. I smiled.” Bella felt a rush of affection for the man who had raised her from the time she’d arrived on his doorstep a sad, lonely, gangly eight-year-old girl with long red braids. She hadn’t been sad for very long after she’d come to Nevada to live with her grandfather. Now she knew that long legs were an asset, but then she’d felt like a clumsy colt. Although her hair was still red, her grandfather always referred to it as auburn which had made it easier to live with. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a curmudgeon about the bills lately. I just can’t stop thinking that we’ll be forced to make some pretty drastic choices if things don’t change.”

  “Change.” Her grandfather waved his hands to encompass the two-thousand-square-foot wedding chapel that he’d opened in 1952. “I keep up with the times.”

  “If you say so.”

  “What?” Her grandfather looked around. “We’ve redecorated recently.”

  “The early-eighties isn’t recent, Grandpa.” A true romantic at heart, Clive Johnson had been swept up in royal wedding fever when Prince Charles had proposed to the young, shy Lady Diana Spencer. In a rare moment of extravagance, her grandfather, with Bella’s help, had re-painted, re-plastered, re-wallpapered and re-carpeted his beloved chapel. Out went the ‘50s décor and in came the ‘80s opulence. And the only change that Bella had been able to talk her grandfather into since then was removing a wedding portrait of the ill-fated royal couple.

  “So, you think we should refurbish?”

  Bella didn’t think they could afford as much as a postage stamp. Which made redecorating out of the question, but there was no point in saying aloud what they already both knew. “Maybe next year.”

  “That’s the spirit.” Clive clapped his hands together and pointed toward the door. “Bella, I’m telling you that the next person who walks in that door is going to be a sign that our ship’s about to come in.” Together they stared at the glass doors for several moments but no one even passed by. “Be patient.”

  A full three minutes later, Bella was just about to tell her grandfather that they both needed to get back to work when the bells over the door tinkled merrily as it opened.

  A young couple in full bridal attire stepped in, giddy smiles on their faces. Young love, Bella wondered, or too much champagne? Maybe both. Either way, they were customers.

  Her grandfather stepped forward and smiled warmly at the pair. “Welcome to the Hopeful Hearts Wedding Chapel.”

  The bride cocked her head to the side. “Hopeful Hearts? Is that what you said?”

  “It is indeed.” Clive flung his arms wide as if he were a magician conjuring up a tiger from a kitten. “If you’re looking to enter into the state of wedded bliss, you’re in the right place.”

  The couple looked around and then at each other. “Actually, I don’t think we are,” the groom-to-be said.

  “Cold feet, my young man, that’s all. Fear not, marriage is a blessed institution.”

  Marriage is a crap shoot, Bella thought, with the odds not running in favor of the house. But she stayed silent. Her grandfather looked so hopeful that she couldn’t bear to interrupt him.

  “No, I think my fiancé means we’re in the wrong place,” the bride clarified. “This isn’t the Happy Hearts Wedding Chapel?”

  Bella and her grandfather exchanged a quick glance. It looked as if their ship wasn’t so much coming in, as it was sinking.

  “Well, is this the Happy Hearts Chapel?” the bride persisted.

  “It could be,” Clive said, his voice holding just enough hope that it tugged at Bella’s heart.

  She got up and came around the desk. “The chapel you’re looking for is a block down the strip. Come on, I’ll point you in the right direction.” She ushered the couple out onto the pavement and gave them brief directions to the chapel they wanted. “Good luck,” she called after their departing backs. They were going to need it.

  And so was she, if she wanted to keep their doors open.

  “Our odds have just improved,” her grandfather said when she rejoined him. “Which means the next person through those doors is bound to be just the lucky charm we need.”

  Bella sighed. There was no talking her grandfather out of his eternal optimism once he was on a roll. She slipped a twenty dollar bill out of her wallet and handed it to him. “Take the rest of the day off, Grandpa. This will buy you a few frames at the bowling alley and lunch too.”

  Clive looked down at the money. “Maybe I should. If we get slammed with business for the rest of the month, recreation may have to be set aside.”

  Bella laughed. “Only you, Grandpa, can see the silver lining in every situation. Go and have some fun.”

  “Come with me?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want to scare off any lovely ladies that may have their eye on you. You go. I’m fine here.”

  He looked doubtful. “You’re sure?”

  “Absolutely.” Bella gave his shoulders an affectionate squeeze. “Besides, someone has to stay here and wait for our good luck charm to sail through the doors. It might as well be me.”

  Colin Bladestone stood on the Las Vegas strip and looked up at the bright blue sky overhead. Only a few puffy white clouds dotted the expanse of blue. The mid-morning sun was strong but stopped just short of being uncomfortably warm. It was yet another gorgeous day in the city of sin, and it made him homesick for the overcast sky of his native England. At least the gray skies there would have better matched his mood.

  This was Colin’s first trip to Las Vegas and he would be quite c
ontent if it were his last. He glanced at the hotel and casino entrances as he passed them. Their lights and over-the-top architectural details looked garish in the morning light. Nighttime flattered Las Vegas, not daytime. Not that he’d actually left his hotel the night before. Instead, he’d opted for a steak dinner in his room and then he’d spent the remainder of the evening reading through notes for today’s meeting. He hoped he was well prepared, or at least a bit better prepared than his two cousins would be. While Colin didn’t consider either man a match for his business acumen, he didn’t doubt that they were in fighting form, ready to come out swinging in an attempt to be declared the prize winner. The prize was his grandmother’s millions and ultimate control of the family trust. Definitely not a prize he’d easily hand over. Not to the two of them.

  Colin gazed down at his watch. Ten minutes past ten. He frowned. It had been ten minutes past ten the last time he’d checked. He shook his wrist and then flicked his finger against the watch’s face. It was dead. He reached in his pocket for his cell phone but it wasn’t there. He’d left it on the dresser in the hotel. He groaned.

  The last thing he needed was to be late for his meeting. Granted, this was the same meeting that he’d groused about all week, whining that he’d do almost anything to get out of attending. Being tied up in Los Angeles rush hour traffic on a hot day with no air conditioning would be preferable to what lay ahead of him. But duty required his presence at the annual meeting of the Bladestone Family Trust.

  He glanced around the semi-deserted street. Mid-morning in Las Vegas didn’t bode well for finding many open shops. Curse it. Standing still wasn’t going to get him to his meeting any sooner so Colin began walking. He didn’t pass anyone that he could ask the time but a hundred feet ahead of him he saw someone come out of a building and walk briskly ahead. He quickened his step. Somewhere in that same building there was bound to be a clock. Doubtless it would be Vegas tacky with little shot glasses to represent the hours, but at least he could see just how late he was going to be.

  He reached the entrance to a building with a façade of a white clapboard church. Two red neon intertwined hearts hung above the black lettered sign that told him he was about to enter The Hopeful Hearts Wedding Chapel. He pushed open the glass doors and looked around for a clock. There wasn’t one in the entryway. Good grief, was reality really so relative in Las Vegas that no one wanted to know what time it was?

  “Hello?” he called, suddenly feeling absolutely ridiculous. No one answered, which was just par for this morning’s course. He crossed the black and white tile floor and wondered if the building had once been a diner. A red Formica top table was pushed up against the wall with matching vinyl chairs pushed in under it. Several Lucite pamphlet holders were filled with trifold brochures that, he didn’t doubt, extolled the virtue of a quickie marriage.

  His eyes drifted up to a wall covered with framed photos, each depicting a bride and a groom with a beaming Elvis standing between them. Young Elvis, Old Elvis, Elvis in a gold suit, black leather, or rhinestone studded jumpsuits, they were all there. Colin’s eyebrows rose. “Could this be any more tacky?” he asked aloud.

  “Well good morning to you too,” a woman’s voice greeted him in a tone that was laced with sarcasm. “I take it you’re not here to book us as your wedding venue.”

  “God forbid. I’m actually looking for-” he turned around mid-sentence but was unable to complete his thought, or even put together two coherent words because the woman who stood watching him was the most incredibly beautiful creature he’d ever seen. Ever.

  She was almost as tall as he was, and a good portion of her five feet eleven inches was all legs. She wore a black leather skirt that emphasized both her legs and her trim waist. A cream silk blouse, open enough at the neck to show just a hint of cleavage, accentuated the gentle swell of her breasts. Her skin glowed with a healthy tan. Her hair could be called nothing other than titian. He’d always favored women with auburn hair but this woman outshone them all. He forced himself to look into her hazel eyes.

  “You’re looking for…” she prompted him.

  Colin blinked. For just a moment he was darned if he could remember. He drew in his breath and forced himself to speak. “The time. I’m looking for the time.”

  For a long moment the woman held his gaze before she glanced down at her watch. “It’s almost ten thirty.”

  He swore softly.

  “Not the answer you were looking for?”

  “No, as a matter a fact, it wasn’t. But it’ll have to do.” Colin glanced around the empty foyer. Apparently Vegas weddings weren’t morning affairs. “How far is the Desert Oasis hotel?”

  “It’s at the opposite end of the strip, next to the Yellow Rose of Texas Wedding Chapel.”

  “Another bloody chapel?” Once the words were out of his mouth, Colin didn’t know why he’d uttered them. “I meant to say-” but the woman cut him off.

  “You obviously need to be somewhere, so please don’t let me stop you.”

  As Colin watched her turn and walk away, an odd sense of disappointment settled over him. He shook his head. The meeting. That was what required his attention now. He left the chapel the way he’d come in and began to walk briskly on his way. But he couldn’t help but wonder what sort of a name would a gorgeous redhead have?

  Bella kept herself occupied with mathematical gymnastics and pencil pushing until her grandfather returned from the bowling alley. She smiled as he walked in the door and put his bowling ball in the foyer closet. His face was an easy read so she knew he’d enjoyed himself. Good.

  “Hello, sugar plum.” His gaze went to the figures she’d been working on. “Have fun?”

  Bella smiled. “Not as much fun as you. How’d you bowl?”

  “Like a champion.” He winked. “We don’t need to get all caught up in numbers, now, do we?”

  “Nope, not today.” But soon they’d need to have a conversation that she worried would break her grandfather’s heart. He loved the Hopeful Hearts Wedding Chapel. Bella’s grandmother Olive had loved Las Vegas. From the first time she’d visited she’d told her young husband that it would be a dream to live in a city that dazzled like Vegas did. And so Clive had made his new bride’s dream come true by investing all his savings into a wedding chapel. Bella remembered her grandmother saying that she and her husband lived in wedded bliss by helping others marry their sweethearts. An idealistic, loving, and dream-filled pair young Olive and Clive had been, and they’d greatly enjoyed the life they’d built.

  But now it was falling to ruins. It was only after her grandmother’s death that Bella had learned that Olive had been the financially astute one of the pair. Bella had always worked in the wedding chapel but she’d been so busy with college and graduate school that she hadn’t been involved in the behind the scenes administrative details. Now she wished she had paid more attention to whatever it was that Olive had done to keep the chapel in the black. Now they were seeing red and Bella didn’t know if she could keep things going without incurring significant debt, something both she and her grandfather were opposed to. At this point, their opposition to borrowing funds was a moot point, no one in their right mind would lend them more than a quarter.

  “Any calls or potential clients wander in while I was gone?” Clive asked.

  “As a matter of fact, yes, someone did wander in.” Bella pulled a few petals from the fire and ice roses that sat on the corner of her desk. “But he wasn’t a potential client. Far from it.”

  Clive turned to look at her, an amused expression on his face. “Date material then?”

  Bella laughed. “Oh, Grandpa, only if he were the last man on earth, and probably not even then.” But the stranger had been unbelievably handsome. She liked tall men. His expensive tailored business suit didn’t hide his trim, athletic form. Another point in his favor had been that he had dark hair and light blue eyes, a winning combination. And his British accent had been downright sexy. It was a shame that his man
ners were so lacking. She sighed. “He’s not worth thinking about anyway. We’ve seen the last of him.”

  Chapter 2

  When Colin burst into the meeting room, he saw right away that his grandmother was in rare form.

  “How nice of you to join us, Colin.” Margaret Bladestone was a petite, five-foot-three-inch, seventy-year-old dynamo with a sleek silver bobbed haircut, red lacquered finger nails, and a commanding presence. She was fluent in several languages, one of which was sarcasm. “We’ve been waiting with baited breath for you to grace us with your company.”

  Colin resisted the urge to smile. He kept his features suitably serious as he bent to kiss her cheek. “Sorry, Granny,” he said, using the affectionate moniker that he suspected she was secretly fond of. “Would you believe that I was out late partying and that I overslept?”

  “No, I wouldn’t.” She pointed to the one empty seat at the table. “Sit.”

  He sat. Margaret Bladestone was the kind of woman that people obeyed. She ran the Bladestone Family Trust with a stern expression and an iron hand. Queen Elizabeth had nothing on his grandmother in the devotion to duty department.

  Colin glanced at his two cousins and nodded a greeting. Thomas looked away and Edwin looked at his hands. Decent fellows, his cousins. Colin’s father had two brothers, who each produced one son. Thomas’ father divided his days and evenings between his twin vices, gambling and booze. Edwin’s father had died nearly five years ago, and Colin’s father was an artist who eschewed anything that he considered conventional or commercial. All of which left Margaret Bladestone with no sons to carry on the family’s work, as well as three grandsons who didn’t get along well enough to work together as a team.