A Perfect Mess Read online

  Text copyright ©2017 by the Author.

  This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Marina Adair. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original St. Helena Vineyard Series remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Marina Adair, or their affiliates or licensors.

  For more information on Kindle Worlds: http://www.amazon.com/kindleworlds

  A Perfect Mess

  By Nan O’Berry

  Dedication

  To Marina Adair, Reina Torres, and the ladies of St. Helena’s Vineyards, thank you for allowing me to write in this wonderful venue.

  To my wonderful friends who made this possible and the editor who worked till the last moment to make it shine.

  Table of Contents

  Message from Marina Adair

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Meet Marina Adair

  About the Author

  Additional Books

  Dear Readers,

  Welcome to the St. Helena Vineyard’s Kindle World, where romance is waiting to be uncorked and authors from around the globe are invited to share their own stories of love and happily ever after. Set in the heart of wine country, this quaint town and its cast of quirky characters were the inspiration behind my St Helena Vineyard series, and the Hallmark Channel movie, AUTUMN IN THE VINEYARD. I want to thank these incredible authors for spending time in St. Helena, and all of you readers who are adventurous enough to take the journey with us.

  I hope you enjoy your time here as much as we have.

  Warmly,

  Marina Adair

  Chapter One

  Today was going to be perfect. She wasn’t nervous, not at all. The sun was shining. It was all just perfect. A smile lifted the upturned corner of her lips. Jenna McCormick couldn’t be more pleased. She’d heard the horror stories of brides fainting at the altar, but she felt ready, more than ready. This wedding had been in the planning since she received her first bride doll on her tenth birthday.

  She turned to the rustle of organza, satin, and lace, then moved toward the corner of the room. Her grandmother, or better known to her, Nonna Cardilino had the standing mirror brought over from her cottage. Jenna stared at her reflection. The dress looked magnificent. The off the shoulder, ball gown accentuated her curves, while the ivory color played well against the cream of her skin. Without thinking, her right hand moved to the bodice of the antique gown and with a feathery touch, she traced the beading and sequins along the satin of the neckline to the gentle cap sleeves. The image of her Nonna’s aged fingers working such delicate stitches to repair the blemishes time had inflicted upon the dress made her smile broaden. No one would ever suspect it was less than perfect. Another slight turn and she gazed at the row of satin buttons that ran to the waistline beneath the cathedral length veil.

  She’d discovered it years ago, hidden in a trunk that had been left at the St. Helena’s Hardware and Refurbish Rescue. At first, when Connie Larson pulled back the tissue, they thought the gown was a goner. But something about the look drew Jenna’s imagination. She rescued it from the trash and begged Connie to let her buy it. Bringing the dress home to Nonna’s house, her grandmother thought her mad. But Jenna didn’t give up. She used every bit of Italian arm twisting and Scottish mule headedness until her grandmother gave in.

  They had it cleaned and where time had taken its toll, Jenna and Nonna Liliana purchased crystals and beading working quietly to once again, breathe life into Jenna’s dream. Now, she was about to walk down to the aisle into the arms of Rhodes Hatfield, to pledge her love in front of all her friends and family.

  “All my dreams, my planning, its finally coming true,” she whispered at her image in the mirror.

  She even had the perfect venue, Ryo Winery. Grandpa had worked on the Sorrento Ranch all his life. So, it didn’t take too much pleading to get her friend, Frankie, to allow her to use the grounds as the wedding site. A rented tent from ‘Party to Go,’ stood on the south lawn for the reception. Precisely at seven, a three course meal consisting of prime rib, asparagus, and rice pilaf, along with several bottles RYO’s best were to be uncorked. For those with a sweet tooth, Jenna had arranged to serve California strawberries waiting to be dipped in cascading waterfalls of chocolate. It had set her bank account back, but she’d saved all her life for this one bit of happiness and she wasn’t about to be denied.

  The clock on the wall chimed the next hour. Jenna closed her eyes. The schedule had been memorized. The harpist would sitting down to play the two selected songs, Claire De Lunn by Debussy for her grandmother, the love theme from her favorite movie, Romeo and Juliet, and then, it would be her moment. Nonna Liliana would come and lead her to place her hand on her grandfather’s arm. Together, they would move to Mendelssohn’s march. Her grandfather, Aldo had looked so handsome in his gray vest and frock coat earlier in the day. Now, she wished she’d saved some of her money to pay for a professional photographer.

  “It’s all right,” she assured herself, knowing that each guest in attendance had been given disposable cameras to catch moments of this wonderful day for her.

  Her hand moved to the hollow of her neck where the tiny gold heart that once belonged to her mother rested. She blinked back a surge of moisture. “I wish she could have been here.” But her death in a car accident when Jenna was five, was the only dark mark on this occasion. “I’ll do you proud, Momma,” she whispered.

  A soft knock echoed against the wooden door of Frankie’s office.

  “Come in,” Jenna called.

  The door opened and her Nonna Cardilino along with Frankie entered.

  The lavender lace dress Liliana Cardilino chose for her wedding complemented her thick white hair.

  Jenna loved the way she wore her waist length crown of glory, braided and wrapped around her crown. When she was younger, she was so sure her grandmother was an angel and her hair served as her halo. “You’re early,” she murmured.

  “So I am,” Liliana replied.

  Behind her, Jenna’s good friend slipped quietly into the room and closed the door. Her only attendant, today, Frankie agreed to forgo the jeans, tank top, and ball-buster boots she was most famous for and in its place, she’d agreed to wear the tea length gown of blue chiffon and ballet flats.

  “You look so pretty, Frankie,” Jenna smiled. “Thank you.”

  Frankie gave her an honored smile. “For you, kiddo, only for you.”

  “Just let me get my flowers.” Jenna turned to pick up the cascade of Calla Lilies’ sitting on the desk. “Is Grandpa ready?” she asked, before she turned. The smile on her face froze as she caught the cautious glance between the two women. Unnerved, Jenna waited, her gaze moving from one solemn face to the other.

  Both appeared to avoid catching her eye.

  “Nonna?”

  Liliana moved toward her. A soft smile that almost seemed more of pity than of joy marred her face.

  “Nonna?” Her voice strained.

  “Sit down, my sweet,” Liliana whispered as she took the flowers from her hands. “Sit down.”

  Jenna watched as she passed the flowers to Frankie, who turned away and laid them on the windowsill.

  “I-I don’t understand,” she muttered.

  “Come.” Nonna Liliana’s wrapped her fingers around Jenna’s elbow. “There’s a lovely chair right over here where we can talk.”

  “I don’t want to talk,” Jenna retorted. “I’m about to walk down the aisle.”She allo
wed herself to be led to the chairs in front of the desk. Frankie turned the chair around and Jenna lowered herself into it in slow motion. Her hands rested on the arms. Her heart pounded so hard against her chest she was afraid it my break through. There wasn’t enough spit left in her throat to swallow as she watched her grandmother pull a small stool forward and ease her frame into it. “Nonna?”

  Liliana said nothing.

  Instead, Jenna watched as the hands that cooked a million meals, dried her tears, and taught her how to make the best zeppoli, grabbed her wrists. The warmth of her fingers was almost a shock against Jenna’s cold skin. The joy of the day evaporated. “Something has happened?” Jenna whispered.

  “Yeah,” Frankie muttered angrily beneath her breath. “Something has happened.”

  №

  Carson Murphy eased the setting of his aperture and refocused his Nikon camera. He wanted to catch the last rays of sunshine between the vines of the vineyard. While he worked in a radio booth most of the time, but photography was his passion. He often spent his weekends traipsing through Malibu or along the spectacular beaches of California capturing everyday life. When Nate offered him a chance to have free rein in the area of St. Helena and especially this vineyard, he didn’t hesitate. He waited, slowly letting out his breath, until his finger brought enough pressure to make the camera click.

  He eased it from in front of his face and sighed. It should be a good one. The setting around the old Sorrento Ranch boasted some of the best landscape in the area. He shouldered his aging camera and hoofed it back down to the main brewery. He needed to be careful. Nate had instructed him one of Francesca’s or rather Frankie’s’ friends was being married at the vineyard today and he promised not to be a menace.

  The trampling of bushes drew his attention to the right as a mop of brown hair pushed through. He paused as the creature stared at him, then gave him a resounding, Wonk. “Good afternoon to you too, Mittens.” Carson grinned. “You’re a good friend I hear, but Nate warned me about you.”

  The alpaca shuffled from the edge of the grapevines. He paused a few feet from Carson and thrust his neck forward so he might explore the novelty of the camera.

  “No eating this.” Carson pulled the camera back. “But how about posing with me for a selfie plus one?”

  The Alpaca stopped chewing and stared at him as if to ask, ‘why didn’t you say so?’

  Carson shifted the camera over his head and away from the leering animal. Rummaging through his camera bag, he pulled out a cell phone and stick. “Now, don’t bite.”

  Mittens cocked his head to one side as if he were debating on whether to keep the peace.

  Carson took that moment to slip his cell phone onto the brackets of the stick. “It won’t hurt a bit,” he promised. Stepping over to the animal, he pushed the stick out as far as it would go and draped an arm over the Alpaca’s shoulders. “Smile and say cheese!”

  The animal drew his head up and seemed to stick out his tongue as Carson pressed snap.

  Reeling in the cell phone, he ran his finger across the screen and pulled up the picture. “Not bad for an Alpaca.” Carson chuckled. “But we’ll have to work on your photogenic skills.”

  Mittens gave a snort and then trotted away.

  “Spoil sport,” he called and all he received for his taunt was a flick of its tail. Carson laughed and stowed away his camera before moving along the path that led back to the vineyard offices. He paused at the opening on the knoll. Rows of chairs marked the site of the wedding. He moved closer. A single altar stood beneath a Redwood pergola which had been draped in tulle and now as the twilight moved across the land, a thousand twinkling lights illuminated the setting.

  “It’s perfection,” he murmured. “As close to perfect as one could get.” Setting down his bag, he pulled is camera out and began to shoot.

  There were people milling about, moving toward their seats. Their expressions full of joy and happiness.

  He panned the area and saw that no groom was visible.

  The first chords of the harp floated over the airways. The guests hurried to fill the chairs.

  Carson shifted to a new position and took several photos of the young lady playing the gilded instrument. He really shouldn’t be horning in on the young couple’s big day, but there was something about the perfection of it all that drew his artistic eye.

  The crowd grew silent. All heads turned toward the arched opening of the main brewery. The musician paused for two beats, then swung into Mendelssohn’s March. With slow precision, the bride moved down the aisle.

  He lifted his camera and drew the image closer. The dress was as elegant as the woman who wore it. It molded to her curves as if a second skin. The veil, attached to the back of her dark hair by a satin bow, floated around her in a divine image.

  Still, the groom remained missing.

  At the altar, he watched as she turned to face the gathered assembly. He focused the camera until only her unblemished face filled his view finder. Her dark sable hair pulled back in an elegant French roll, accentuated the soft peach color of her skin. Her deep emerald eyes held him entranced even though the lashes appeared damp from tears. He snapped a few frames, and as she started to speak, her gentle voice drifted across the stillness of the gathered crowd to where he stood.

  “Friends, I wish to thank you for coming.” She turned and looked at the minister who moved beside her and patted her hand. “But, as you can see, there is no groom.”

  Carson pulled the camera down.

  A gasp rolled in a wave from the rear of the group to the front. The bride bowed her head and took a deep breath before bringing her glistening gaze back to the assembly. “Rhodes.” She lifted the letter she held in her hand and repeated his name, “Rhodes has informed me that he is not ready for marriage. I spent….” She dampened her lips and thought about her words. “I’ve paid for a wonderful dinner.I don’t have enough room in my refrigerator to hold all this food.”

  There was a polite round of laughter, however the meaning fell short. He watched her try to grin. However, the joy never reached her eyes.

  “Please won’t you join me in the tent behind the brewery? I-I didn’t expect today to turn out as it has. I beg your forgiveness.”

  Someone in the back called out, “It wasn’t your fault.”

  She glanced at the rear row of seats and the tears in her eyes glistened. “Thank you.” Head held high, she moved back toward the entrance.

  As she passed by each row of chairs, they stood as if to honor the angel that passed by.

  He watched as she shook the hands of each person that moved through the archway toward the tent. Carson couldn’t help himself. He lifted the camera and snapped a picture of her face to capture the eloquence of her compassion in the worst of times.

  Chapter Two

  Carson needed to get closer. Moving toward the winery, he stationed himself at the edge of the designated parking area. To his surprise, he found her standing at the entrance turned exit shaking the hand of each guest. He lifted his camera again, and focused on her hands.

  She clasped the guest’s hand in her right, then closed her left hand over as if to embrace their thoughtfulness in showing up.

  Lowering his camera, he watched as the guests trailed out and over to the tent on the lawn. It seemed more like a funeral than a joyful occasion.

  When the last guest exited, he was so sure she would leave that he moved to where he parked his car and stowed the camera bag into the trunk. He turned only to watch as she walked slowly toward the tent where her guests waited. His feet seemed to follow and in the blink of an eye, he was standing there watching.

  Someone handed her a tapered glass filled with wine. She moved to the center of the dance floor and the flood of voices ceased.“Thank you, friends, for your support. Tonight, we’ll drink to happiness. “She lifted her glass.

  One by one, the rest of those seated did the same.

  “To happiness,” an elderly gentleman
cried.

  “To happiness,” they all answered.

  The woman took a sip as the musicians struck up a popular number. She moved to the long table across the back of the tent then reached up and pulled the satin bow that held her veil from the back of her head.

  A hand slapped his shoulder and Carson’s eyes widened.

  “She’s something else, isn’t she?”

  Marco Deluca’s voice rang in his ears. Carson nodded. “She is.”

  “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

  He shrugged. “I was taking photos.”

  Marco pointed his glass toward her. “I don’t think I’d have the guts to do what she did today.”

  “What happened?” Carson asked.

  Marco snorted. “The obvious, the groom got cold feet.”

  Carson raised a brow. “Cold feet? She’s stunning.”

  He stared at the glass. “Sometimes it happens.”

  “Sucks when a nice woman has her dreams shattered.” Carson lifted the glass and took a bigger swallow.

  “Not anything we wanted to see, that’s for sure.”

  Carson turned his head and stared at the man standing next to him. “You and your family have lived here all your lives, I know you know the bride to be, that wasn’t. What about the groom? Do you know him?”

  Marco shook his head. “Nope. Jenna met him a few years ago when she and Connie went down the coast looking for antiques for the shop. But I hear he’s from around these parts though.”

  Jenna, her name is Jenna. “Jenna, huh.” Carson took another sip.

  “She moved to her grandmother’s house when she was five,” Marco explained.

  Carson stared at her as she moved from table to table. It didn’t seem right to be peering into someone’s past without their permission, especially when that particular person conducted herself with such great decorum, in spite of the adverse circumstances that surrounded her. Yet, for some odd reason he couldn’t fathom, he needed to know. “So, what was she like growing up?”