Thirty-Four Going On Bride (The Spinster Series Book 3) Read online

  “Your aura is off; it has been for a while,” Lia says, pointing to a spot above my head. I’m assuming that’s where my aura is visible. I wouldn’t know; I’ve never seen my aura. Or anyone’s aura for that matter.

  “I’m sure it is. I’ve got a lot on my plate right now,” I say, and my eye twitches. These days it does that every now and then. I’d say lack of sleep, too much stress, and poor eating habits are the cause. Actually, that’s what Google said when I looked it up.

  “Would you like me to cast you a health spell?” She asks, concern apparent in her large blue eyes, which are framed with black glasses.

  “Oh no,” I say emphatically. “Thank you, but I’ll pass.” I start to walk toward the door, hoping she’ll get the hint.

  She grabs her things from the table and moves toward the door. “Well, if you ever need one, I’m here for you,” she says, a small, thin smile perching on her lips.

  “Yes, if I ever need a health spell, or any spell for that matter, you’ll be the first person I call,” I say as I open the door and Lia walks out.

  Lovely smelling spring air wafts through the open door and for a moment, I take it all in. What a beautiful day. This is what I need, some fresh air and to simply sit on a bench in a park, if only for a few minutes. But I don’t have any time to spare these days.

  My phone beeps signaling a text. It’s Anna.

  I’m looking into pricing for a champagne fountain at the reception. Thoughts?

  I have a thought—how about hell no. Wasn’t an open bar enough? I almost didn’t even agree to that. I want a short reception (or rather, no reception at all). Free alcohol will guarantee a long and drawn-out one. Not to mention the fact that the last time I had champagne, I nearly ruined Anna’s wedding. But let’s not go there.

  Now she wants a fountain? Of champagne? What about the cost? Not that I have to worry too much there. My dad was very excited about finally marrying me off (he actually said that—though I think he was mostly joking, I hope) and said he wanted to give me my dream wedding. I told him that my dream wedding would consist of me, Jared, a beach, and whoever showed up, but he seemed to think I was just saying that to be nice. I wasn’t; that’s what I truly want. Now it seems I’ll be living everyone else’s dream wedding.

  I text back a quick “no” and wait for my impending “fine” text, but there’s no response. Huh. Maybe she’s finally realized this is my wedding and not hers? Doubtful, but I can dream.

  My phone beeps.

  And there it is.

  Fine.

  Oh well, she can be mad. I’m putting my foot down with this one.

  I lock up and turn to go to the kitchen, feeling relief wash over me that my workday is finally done. Not that I don’t love my job, I absolutely adore it. I’m just so stressed with life lately, even work has felt like a chore at times.

  It’s also not helping that because business has been going so well, Jared is really pushing me to expand. He’s even been scoping out perfect locations for a second bakery and has supposedly found the perfect spot over in a newly built-up area in Centennial that he can’t wait to show me.

  I’ve tried in so many ways—short of outright saying it—to tell him that I don’t want to expand. At least not right now. I get that we should “strike while the iron is hot,” or whatever, but I also don’t know if having some sort of baking empire is what I truly want. Jared has visions of product lines, magazine features, and television shows dancing in his head. I love him for the faith he has in me, but really, I just don’t think I have it in me. And honestly, I’m not sure I want to.

  And then there’s the gala. The gala that I don’t want to go to or make cupcakes for. I know I’m being recognized as one of Denver’s “thriving” (their word, not mine) local businesses, but can’t they just come into the bakery and hand me an award with a handshake? Why the big to-do where I have to wear a gown that’s sure to be itchy and breath-inhibiting? Not to mention the high possibility that I’ll be sporting some Spanks as well, to hold in these extra ten—er, twelve—pounds I’ve acquired.

  Success is not all it’s cracked up to be. I think I want to go back to my lowly life of sitting in an office where no one expected me to achieve anything higher than working an eight-hour day.

  Maybe not. I almost threw up in my mouth at the thought.

  “Well don’t you look beat up from the feet up,” my employee Patti declares in her thick, southern accent as I walk into the kitchen.

  “Yep,” I say, with no enthusiasm. “I just had to kick Lia out.”

  “That girl ain’t right in the head, bless her heart,” Patti says, shaking her head. I internally roll my eyes. I’m convinced Patti thinks she can say anything rude as long as she follows it up with a “bless her heart”—like that’s supposed to make up for it.

  She’s got a broom in her hand, and from the looks of my now clean kitchen, Patti’s been busy, although her big blonde bouffant doesn’t look affected. I often wonder how much hairspray goes into a ‘do like that. Thank goodness for her and her big hair—I’d be lost without her.

  “I’m concerned about ya, darlin’,” she says, her squinty blue eyes peering at me over her large, round glasses.

  “Yeah, you aren’t the only one,” I say, thinking my mom had said the same thing to me just a couple of days ago. In fact, I think Anna’s the only person who’s not said those words to me. But that’s because she’s an evil overlord.

  Jared hasn’t expressed concern either, but honestly I think he thinks I’m superwoman or something, and why would I want him to think otherwise?

  I’d love a break, but that’s not going to happen anytime soon. Definitely not until this wedding is over. And then we get to go on our honeymoon to Hawaii. Laying out in the sun, reading a book. Walking along the beach with Jared, hand in hand. It sounds incredibly dreamy, and I can’t wait.

  We had discussed going to Paris, but I knew that if we went there, I wouldn’t be able to relax. I’d be continually on the lookout for baked goods to try and would most likely come back the size of a whale.

  No, palm trees and beautiful beaches are just what I need.

  “We’re just wrapping up here,” Debbie, another employee, says as she walks into the kitchen from the storage room in the back.

  “You’re life savers,” I say with a worn-out smile. “Where’s Kate?” I ask, looking around.

  “In the walk-in,” Patti says, nodding her head in the direction of the walk-in cooler.

  After the whole Cupcake Battles thing, the work got to be too much for just Patti, Debbie, and me. So I had to hire someone, which was so much harder than I thought it would be. I figured I’d throw it out there and then have tons of applicants to pick from. While that did happen, there were very few that were qualified.

  Then, as if she were Mary Poppins, Kate Bowen magically came into my life. Her resume was impeccable, her interview was perfect. Her pie crust actually brought a tear to my eye. It was that amazing.

  She seemed to fit in well with everyone in the beginning. She just kept to herself and did her thing. But lately I’ve been noticing looks between Debbie and Patti when Kate says something, or a flat-out eye roll from Patti (subtlety is not her strength). Now that she’s more comfortable, I’ve noticed that Kate can be kind of bossy. But she has great ideas. I think some of the animosity might come from the fact that I use her opinion so often. It’s not that I don’t use Debbie’s and Patti’s, but we’ve been doing this for a while now, it’s nice to have a fresh set of ideas.

  I know I probably need to have a discussion with Patti and Debbie about it, but I’ve been avoiding it. I keep hoping it will all go away on its own. This is basically the theme of my life: ignore it and hope it goes away. It hasn’t really worked so well for me in the past, but maybe it’ll work this time.

  “Did someone ask for me?” Kate asks as she comes back into the kitchen from the large walk-in cooler, her large hazel eyes searching the room. She reaches back and tu
gs on her tiny ponytail that her shoulder-length brown hair has been pulled into.

  “Yes, actually,” I say turning toward her. “Have you decided what you want to make for the dessert of the day tomorrow?”

  “I’m making fruit tartlets,” she states, her tone informing me that I don’t actually have a choice, and frankly I don’t care. I like that Kate takes initiative.

  “Sounds good,” I say, now thinking how amazing a tartlet sounds. If it wasn’t for that dang diet Anna has me on, I’d get to enjoy one tomorrow. Now I’ll have to watch as everyone else enjoys them. Or maybe I’ll eat one anyway, love handles be damned.

  “Well if it’s okay with you, Julia, I think I’m going to take off,” Debbie says. Reaching around her plump figure, she unties her apron and hangs it on a hook by the door. She takes a look in the mirror next to the aprons and fusses with her short, curly, red hair. I had to hang a mirror there after a very unfortunate incident where I waltzed through the bakery with what looked like bangs a la 1980’s (the front part of my hair flying about two inches off the top of my head), made possible by some frosting. I’m not sure a day has gone by without someone bringing it up.

  “Got a hot date with your man?” Patti asks, nudging Debbie with her elbow.

  “Hot, indeed,” Debbie says with a wink.

  Gross.

  Debbie recently married one of our regulars, George. Ever since they came back from their short honeymoon, it’s been like perv central in the kitchen. I swear between her and Patti I’ve had an education that I’d rather not have had, and certainly not from either of them. I think they do it just to see how red my face can get.

  It’s still so strange to me that Debbie ended up with George. He’s a grumpy old guy who grunted out orders and rarely acknowledged my greetings. I’m not sure how it happened, but somehow he and Debbie hit it off. Actually, much to my dismay (and churning stomach), the way I found out that they were seeing each other was when I found them engaging in a little tryst in my bakery. That picture will be burned in my brain … forever.

  That aside, I’m happy for Debbie. She’s finally found happiness after losing her husband over a decade ago. I’ve actually seen a change in her countenance since she and George got together. She’s always been great to work with, but now she seems so content. It’s wonderful to see her that way. I wonder if people see a change in me since I found love with Jared. Well, maybe they used to, but all this wedding planning is really taking its toll. When I look in the mirror lately, all I see are wrinkles and an over-all frazzled look.

  I walk Patti, Debbie, and Kate out and lock the door behind them. Just a few things to do in the office and then I’ll be out of here as well. I’m meeting Jared and his family for dinner tonight and I need time to get myself looking less like I’ve been working in a busy bakery all day.

  I take a seat in my office, letting my head sink back into the chair. I close my eyes for a moment. It feels like I haven’t sat down like this in ages. In truth, I haven’t. The only time I get to close my eyes is at night when I go to bed, and even that has been a bit difficult these days with thoughts of everything I have to do running through my head, not to mention the crazy dreams. It’s been a long while since I’ve had a good night’s sleep.

  My phone beeps, pulling me out of my brief break.

  See you soon :)

  I look at the clock on my phone. Crap! I must’ve dozed off! I only have thirty minutes until I’m supposed to meet Jared and family for dinner. How could I let this happen? I should’ve never sat down.

  I gather up my things and quickly close up the bakery and run as fast as I can to my condo. Okay, I actually could only keep up a runner’s pace for about a block, and then slowed to a walk. Not even being late for dinner with my future in-laws can get me to move my feet that fast.

  Not that this is the first dinner we’ve had or anything. I’ve been out with the Moodys plenty of times, but tonight is the first time we all get to meet Mark’s girlfriend. Mark is Jared’s younger brother. He’s a bit of a punk, if you ask me. Totally unreliable, runs off at the mouth, goes through women like I go through running shoes. No, that’s a terrible analogy—I’m still on my first pair. More like my socks. I need to invest in some high quality socks—the kind I buy only last a month or two. Anyway, Mark has yet to bring a girl for us to meet so this will be an interesting twist for dinner. Especially since Bobby is none-too-excited about meeting her. She’s totally one of those moms who think no one is good enough for their boys. Except for me, of course. At least, I hope.

  I like Mark for the most part, but he’s one of those people you can never take seriously. I don’t even think he takes himself seriously. Maybe it’s because he was Bobby’s baby, and so he was more spoiled or something. He definitely plays the younger brother/baby-of-the-family well. Kind of like Anna, but even less responsible. Anna’s only dumb with her spending, although her husband has nipped that in the bud. Actually, no, he makes enough money as a lawyer to keep her spending how she wants.

  I’m nearly home, thank goodness. I’m not sure how I’m going to improve this catastrophic look I’ve got going on, but I’m going to have to try. I look up at my building as I get closer. I love this place. After living the glamorous—okay, not so glamorous—life in my parents’ basement for ten years, I finally purchased my first condo. My parents’ basement wasn’t terrible—it was actually quite cozy—but it’s a life I don’t think back fondly on. I was in a rut, stuck in my ways in a dead-end job, living in my parents’ basement. Call me crazy for not wanting to dream of the old days.

  I do adore my little condo and am feeling a little melancholy about the fact that I’ll be selling it soon. I wish we could keep it, but it’s not very smart to keep a mortgage on two places, and Jared’s place is much bigger than mine. My cat, Charlie, will surely love the space she’ll have to run around. Jared did offer to sell his place, knowing what my condo means to me, but I told him no. I’ll miss my little home, but Jared’s condo is freaking awesome. The kitchen alone convinced me that we should stay there.

  We haven’t put my condo up for sale yet because real estate (especially condos) go quickly thanks to the new pot smoking laws in Colorado. There was another condo down the hall that sold in three weeks. So we’ll put mine up closer to the wedding. Anna and Brown have been on me to sell it now and move in with Jared. But Jared and I don’t want to live together before the wedding. I know that’s super traditional and a little old fashioned, but we both like the idea of everything being new after we get married. Also because Jared informed me that Bobby would not approve if we “shacked up.” She’s apparently not a fan.

  As soon as I get home, I rip off my clothing, jump in the bathroom for a millisecond shower, and race to get ready as fast as I can. I run a brush through my wet brown hair, and then hit it with the blow dryer for a minute. It’s only enough to make it so my hair isn’t dripping, but it’ll have to do. I consider leaving it down, but I’m thinking the drowned-rat look is out of style, so I throw it up into a simple bun and then add a silver jeweled headband so I don’t look so drab.

  My green eyes are looking a little dull, so I throw on a bit of makeup—like the teeniest bit possible—and I quickly dress and am out the door in record time. The restaurant is only five blocks away, so as of right now I’ll only be ten minutes late. Not bad, really. Well, not bad for me.

  CHAPTER 3

  “Julia,” Bobby says my name brightly upon seeing me enter the restaurant. “You look lovely.” She stands up and gives me a quick hug.

  I blush and glance down at my pale pink shift dress with an off-white cardigan and give her a little smile. “Thank you,” I say.

  I want to add something sarcastic but I hold my tongue. I’m trying to calm the sarcasm. At least around Bobby. I get the idea she doesn’t appreciate it, or she just doesn’t get it. But either way, I could probably do with a little less cynicism. Plus, I only want to say something self-deprecating because I can’t seem to take a
compliment without adding some sort of clause for why I don’t deserve the praise.

  It’s been tough not being so sarcastic, but around Bobby I try to keep the comments to myself. For example, when Bobby says, “you look lovely,” I answer out loud with a “thank you” but in my head I’m thinking, if you think the drowned-rat look is “lovely.” It’s been working well for me so far.

  “You look lovely too,” I say in return. No inner sarcasm needed here. Bobby always looks lovely and put together. Her short blonde hair is perfectly styled with not one hair out of place, and she’s wearing an impeccably pressed white blouse and nice jeans with simple but expensive looking jewelry adorning her ears, neck, and fingers. This is her uniform. I’ve rarely seen her in anything else. She, however, has seen me at my worst plenty of times. Usually with flour in my hair. And sometimes 1980’s bangs, thanks to some icing (yes, she was there that day … of course she was).

  Jared stands up and pulls out my seat, ever the gentleman. “You look beautiful,” he whispers in my ear, sending chills down my spine. He gives me a quick kiss on the lips before I sit down and I blush a few extra shades of red. I’m still not quite used to kissing Jared in front of his mother. I doubt I’ll ever get used to it. Not that I’d ever want him to stop, mind you, because I don’t think I’ll ever tire of his kisses.

  “Where’s Mark?” I ask as I unfold a cloth napkin and place it in my lap.

  “He’s late,” Jared says, giving me a not-surprised shrug. Mark is always late. So am I, but Mark is typically much later than I am. Which isn’t a terrible thing for me.

  Jared and Mark don’t look much alike. They’re both very good looking, but in their own way. Mark takes after his mom, with light blonde hair and brown eyes. He’s got one of those dimples in his chin (which I once referred to as a “butt chin” to Jared and he thought it was so hilarious he told Mark—not the best start to a relationship with my future brother-in-law). Mark has Jared’s same jaw line—that fabulous chiseled jaw—which is really the only resemblance they have.